Remus Lupin: BAMF
by Sasparilla123
Summary: He's slightly insane, addicted to chocolate and allergic to jam. This is the story of the real Remus Lupin. Marauders-era, eventual slash. ("Are we talking midget rabbits? Are those even real?" asked Sirius. Remus fixed him with an exasperated look. "The term is 'vertically challenged'," he said reprovingly. "We've been over this.")
1. First Year

_**THIS MAY BE THE MOST IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE OF YOUR LIFE.**_

Okay. This has been pissing me off for so long, it's not even _funny. _Remus Lupin is _not _weak and boring_._ The boy's a werewolf, not some poncy little kid who starts to cry whenever anyone talks to him. I think anyone who had to hide a secret as big as he did would end up a bit removed from most of his classmates, but not the scared bookworm so many authors choose to write. (No offense to any of them. Lovely people.)

I wrote this to show the real Remus. The pranking mastermind. The smooth, eye-rolling genius. The vague, slightly awkward kid hidden behind a thin veneer of civilization and chocolate sauce.

There might be slash.

I own nothing.

Brace yourself.

**Disclaimer**: I'm using J. K. Rowling's characters. So sue me.

_Rewrite: April 2012. That's right, bitches. IT'S ON._

**1. Exploding Snap and Unplanned Nudity**

It was the first of September, 1971, and the Hogwarts train had boarded. Two boys were huddled together in the corridor, peering into the last compartment. One had glasses and what appeared to be the remnants of a knotted black mop on his head. The other was already in his robes, and exuded an air of aristocratic nonchalance. (Well, _he_ thought he did. Actually, his eyes were slightly crossed and he had a smear of jam on his chin.) The pair were hissing at each other angrily.

"I don't want to!"

"All the rest are full!"

"I said, _I don't want to!"_

"Calm down, mate, it won't be that bad."

"But he looks like such a nerd with all those books…"

"Is he in our year?"

"Must be. Bit taller than me, though."

"Well, that's not hard."

"Hey! Take that back!"

"No. _Shorty."_

A silent scuffle broke out and abruptly ended when the fighters crashed into a door and barreled into the compartment. The tall, pale boy who was sitting in the window seat raised an eyebrow and turned the page of his book with a quiet flick.

With his glasses hanging off one ear and his hair even more gravity-defying than it had been before, the shorter of the wrestlers jerked to his feet. He pulled the other boy up by his already-mangled tie. "Hi," he panted, "I'm James Potter." When his companion didn't say anything, James elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ow! What? Oh, yeah, yeah. And I'm Sirius Black, at your service." He swept into a low, elegant bow, which probably would have been more impressive if James hadn't still had such a firm grip on his tie.

The boy in the window seat marked his place in the book with a long finger and nodded politely at the tangle of limbs on the floor. "Nice to meet you both," he said with a small smile, before turning back to his book.

"And... you are?"

"Oh, right. I'm Remus Lupin." He smiled again faintly, as if forgetting to introduce himself was something he did every day, and returned to his book.

"Er... Everywhere else is full - can we sit here?" James asked.

Remus looked up with a slight frown. "Sure," he replied. He seemed to be wondering why they'd bothered to ask him. Sirius twirled a finger around his ear and mouthed insulting things about Lupin's sanity until James got out his last pack of Exploding Snap cards.

The rest of the journey passed in a haze of triumphant wins for James, games that could have been won (if James hadn't _cheated, _the bloody git) for Sirius and reading for Lupin. Through his indignant and self-righteous fog, Sirius noticed the fair-haired boy making notes in the margins with what looked like a small wooden stick. The other boy must be Muggleborn, or at least half-blood, he thought to himself. Or just plain weird. Who wrote notes by _choice_?"

With a quiet sigh and a sound that was eerily similar to a duck being squashed by a haddock wrapped in bacon - a sound that James, for some reason, was very familiar with - the train came to a halt. Lupin had collected his books and left the compartment in a blur of patched robes and parchment before James had even managed to put down his final card.

"Hey! James, look at _this." _Sirius picked up a book that Lupin had dropped on his way out, and was gazing at it with undisguised lust. It was thick and battered, bound with worn green cloth. A title picked out in gold embroidery looped and curled across the cover.

"_No way,_" breathed the other boy reverently. "_Best Jinxes, Curses and Hexes of the 60's!" _James cracked it open, smoothing trembling fingers down the page. "This is practically _illegal_ at Hogwarts! No one will even sell it to students anymore... I wonder how he got it?"

Sirius pulled the book from James' hands roughly and started to flick through the pages. "Who cares?" he muttered. "I just want to know if this volume has the one with all the orange spots and the showgirl dancing. My parents burnt my copy…" He trailed off as the passage he was reading abruptly blanked out. Handwritten, spidery words began to trace themselves across the page ever so slowly. They formed a message which began to read itself aloud in the quiet, dry voice of the boy who'd written it.

"_Mr Remus Lupin," _it began,_ "owner of this book, has placed a very strong jinx on whomever is holding it in their hands at this moment." _Sirius all but threw it at James, who held it gingerly, as one might hold a screaming baby or a lit firework. The message continued. "_This curse extends to anyone who has_ _held the book at any point within the past fifteen seconds." _At this, Sirius began to swear fluently. James was impressed in spite of himself, and made a mental note to try out some of the more creative phrases on his aunt. "_Unless this book is returned to me, preferably sooner rather than later, the aforementioned book holder, or holders, will suddenly become transfixed with the desire to start a nudist colony, and to convert everyone they know by force. Fair warning has been given - the curse will begin to take effect in about half an hour. Thank you."_

_..._

"Hey, James."

"Yeah?"

"Is it just me, or are robes awfully itchy? You know, I actually think we might be better off without them…"

"_Keep your clothes on and help me find Lupin!"_

As James dragged him out of the train and onto the platform by his tie, which was now looking decidedly worse for wear, Sirius clutched at his pants with trembling fingers. "Hurry! I don't want to be a stripper until I'm at _least_ fifteen!"

"Lupin! Oi, _LUPIN! _We've got your book! _Get over here and fix us!_"

...

Several hours later, firmly dressed in two pairs of trousers (belted on), three shirts, a pair of socks and James' new blazer, Sirius decided that he had thoroughly underestimated Lupin. The boy wasn't a crazy nerd. He was a crazy _genius._

* * *

**2. The Obligatory Cliché Chapter**

For the first time in his life, Fabian Prewett was watching the Sorting. Several incidents with a fish, some fireworks and a little creative curse-work had meant that he and his brother Gideon had been in detention during every Sorting at their time at Hogwarts. In fact, for their own first year Sorting, they'd had to go up to Dumbledore's office before the rest of the school had even arrived at the Great Hall. This was an incident they looked back at fondly as their first _real _accomplishment. Because of this, the twins were staring openly at the new students, making several of them even more terrified than they already were.

"Merlin. They're so _tiny."_

" I think that one wet his pants, look." Fabian pointed to a chubby blonde boy whose robes were puddling water all over the floor. The boy cringed away from the pointing finger and tried to hide behind a tall girl standing near him.

"Nah, that was the one that fell in the lake."

"Look, there's the Potter kid - Mum always has his parents over for tea."

The boy had his head bent together with someone who had the exact same shade of pitch black hair. The two dissolved into helpless laughter at something, their mingled hair bouncing with a life of its own.

"Is that his brother? A cousin maybe?"

"Dunno…" Gideon idly wondered how many tripping jinxes he could cast without getting caught. Ten? Maybe fifteen, if he spaced them out enough. He flicked his wand at a boy with long hair and an even longer nose, who stumbled into the little red haired witch beside him.

"Gid! Snap out of it! They started already!"

"Angus, Sinead."

_"RAVENCLAW!"_

A girl who was an easy head and shoulders shorter than everyone else in the room (even Flitwick) sauntered towards the Ravenclaw table. Gideon decided that the girl was very good at pretending to be confident, but the twitching in her hands gave her away. He let his gaze flick up and he stared at the enchanted ceiling. There was a half-moon and a smattering of stars in the clear velvet sky. Gideon idly wondered if there was a charm he could use to get the ceiling's stars to spell out dirty words. He'd have to ask Fabian about that one.

"Avery, Matthias."

_"SLYTHERIN!"_

"No surprises there," muttered Alice Finch, who was seated across the table from the twins. "The whole family are a bunch of Death Eaters. They're almost as bad as the-"

"Black, Sirius."

"The Blacks," finished Alice with a grim nod.

"Isn't that Potter's new friend?" Gideon asked quietly. Sure enough, as Sirius Black sat on the stool, Potter gave him a thumbs up and an encouraging grin.

"D'you know what's going on, Gid?"

"I've got a bit of an idea…"

The whole hall was silent. A minute passed. Two. The gathered students began to fidget, muttering to each other.

_"What's taking him so long?"_

"_Can't the hat just shove him in Slytherin already? He's a Black, it's not that hard."_

"Cissy, what on earth_ is wrong with your dear cousin?"_

_"Is he actually...arguing with it?"_

Indeed, Sirius' face was screwed up and he seemed to be chanting something under his breath. Finally, as the tension in the hall began to reach boiling point-

"_GRYFFINDOR!"_

Unlike they had for the other new students, not a single person in the whole hall clapped. The boy got to his feet slowly, a look of pure relief and joy on his face.

"Thank _Merlin," _he said, voice ringing through the silence. "I thought I'd be stuck with the rest of my god-awful family."

Loud laughter exploded from the Gryffindor table, and the boy hurried over, throwing himself down on the bench between Alice and a tall seventh year who seemed to have more freckles than skin. Time passed in a blur of names and tripping jinxes, cast by both the twins and Sirius, who turned out to have bit of a talent for it.

"Lupin, Remus!"

A tall boy with floppy, ash-coloured hair looked up at Professor McGonagall. He was the only one in the entire pack of first years who didn't seem even a little scared or nervous. With his book under one arm, he took his place on the stool. Fabian had his wand raised and his mouth open, when Sirius threw himself across the table and forced down his arm.

"Not Lupin," he panted, "he knows better hexes than _I _do." He clutched his robes around himself protectively. Catching the twins' concerned glances, he flushed and tightened his tie.

"I don't want to talk about it. Ever."

"_GRYFFINDOR!"_

Lupin hitched his book to his chest with arms that seemed to have far too many elbows and slid into a seat at the end of the table. He smiled politely at the people who tried to introduce themselves, but tuned them out to focus on the rest of the Sorting. Watching him, Gideon started to turn a delicate shade of green.

"The book. He's got the damn book. I. Would. _Kill. _For. That. Book."

"Since when have you ever read books?" Fabian asked, craning his head to try and catch a glimpse of the cover.

"Only _this _book. It's nothing major, you know. Just a little something called _Best Jinxes, Curses and Hexes of the 60's. _I mean, it's not like we've been trying to find a copy since _forever."_

Fabian suddenly saw at Lupin in a new light. The boy seemed to be muttering something under his breath, still staring at the students yet to be Sorted. His wand was held to the tabletop by a casual hand, which gave it a little flick every now and then. "How does a first year have his own fucking copy? I've never even _seen _one."

"Never mind that," said Gideon impatiently, "D'you think he'd let us borrow it?"

"It gets worse," added Sirius, darkly. "I'm pretty sure he can pull off every spell in it. Look…" He trailed off as Lupin finished whatever incantation he was murmuring and gave his wand a complicated little wiggle.

The unsorted students erupted into chaos. Three quarters of them had been suddenly divided into their probable houses, their robes turning a bright red, yellow or blue. The remaining students didn't have green robes, though - every single item of clothing right down to the shoes on their feet had been painted a violent fuchsia.

"Silence!"

The racket vanished as if an invisible switch had been flicked. Professor McGonagall had flung out her arms, wand outstretched in a white knuckled grip. "If all first years will please continue with the Sorting, _regardless_ of the colour of their attire. I do not wish to know who was responsible for this-" she glared at the Prewetts, but was a little put off by their utter confusion, "-but they should be feeling properly ashamed of themselves." At this, Lupin hid a small smile, not realizing that three of his new house-mates were watching him like hawks.

"Now, if we can proceed; Matherson, Rebecca."

A tiny girl with bright yellow robes that matched her thick ponytail bounced forward and shoved the hat on her head.

"_HUFFLEPUFF."_

Potter, James."

"_GRYFFINDOR!"_

Bedecked in robes of screaming scarlet, James ambled to his new house and squeezed himself in next to Sirius.

"It wasn't you with that jinx, was it?" he asked hopefully. When Sirius shook his head, James grinned. "Whoever it was should get a _medal. _Did you see the look on Nott's face? Pink is definitely his colour - brings out the ugly quite well, I think. It wasn't you two, was it?" he added, looking at Fabian and Gideon for the first time. "I've heard stories about you…"

"Nah, it wasn't us, sadly."

"Wish we'd thought of it, but-"

"-it was Lupin."

The twins looked at each other, their expressions eerily echoing a pair of freckly teenage Dumbledores.

"Mr Prewett?" Fabian gave his brother an inscrutable look from over an imaginary pair of glasses.

"Why, yes, Mr Prewett."

"I rather think we've found our successor, old chap."

"As do I, my dear fellow."

"Oh, but that hex was nothing," said James slyly. "You should have seen what he did to Sirius on the train…"

As James began to explain Lupin's security measures to the enraptured twins, Sirius sputtered blushing denials and compulsively unbuttoned and re-buttoned his blazer. None of the boys noticed the speculative looks coming from behind a book at the end of the table.

Until they tried to get up and leave and realized that their trousers had somehow become attached to the benches.

* * *

**3. Dude Looks Like a Lady**

Peter was confused. Really confused. He would go so far as to say he had never been this confused in his _whole entire life. _Not in all his eleven years, not even when his mother had decided to charm the whole family blue for a month (and that had been pretty confusing). He gazed into the bathroom mirror apprehensively, as if what he saw might bite him. He did a little twirl - his stupid reflection stayed the same.

He was _sure _his hair hadn't been that long yesterday.

Peter did another experimental spin, overbalanced and fell back against the sink. His reflection gaped back at him in horror, all long eyelashes and full lips and..._prettiness._

"Uh, James? I've got a bit of a problem…"

"No, I won't do your tie for you, Pete!" echoed a faint voice from the adjoining room.

"That's not it. I think you'd better come and see." Peter kept turning back and forth in front of the mirror. James barged in through the door, toothbrush in one hand and wand in the other.

"Look, if you've gotten yourself wedged in the shower again, it's Sirius' turn to get you o-" He caught sight of Peter and stopped. Peter blushed. He twirled his hair around an oddly slim finger.

"I know, I'm kind of... I mean, I think-"

"You're a girl." stated James. "A _girl. _Oi! Sirius, c'mere! Pettigrew's a girl!"

Sirius poked his head into the crowded bathroom, and a wicked smile slid onto his face. "_Brilliant."_

Peter stamped his foot. "This is not brilliant!"

"Is he pouting? Good lord, I think he's pouting!"

"This is brilliant!" Sirius repeated. "Think of all the pranks we could pull on people, Pete - no one knows you like this!"

"I will _not-_ I _refuse-"_

James cracked an evil grin. "Let me just go and borrow some clothes from Lily..."

"_No!"_

_"_Come on," said James slyly, "It won't be that bad!"

Peter grabbed his (her? He wasn't quite sure anymore) wand and pointed it at James wildly. "Don't make me hex you," he hissed.

Sirius wisely chose that moment to beat a hasty retreat from the bathroom. It didn't happen often, but when Peter got backed into a corner, the boy was _scary. _He'd bet good money on James getting on the wrong end of a jinx or three...

...

After they'd managed to deflate James' head from its alarming new shape and transfigure some more _appropriate _clothes for Peter, Sirius and James had shoved their friend back into the bathroom with several very tiny, very _frilly_ pieces of fabric.

"You've both gone completely bat-shit crazy if you think I'm wearing these!" he hollered through the door.

"You have to, Pete," Sirius reasoned, as he double-charmed the lock and leaned against the door for good measure. "How else are we going to get you to McGonagall in time to change you back?"

"Yeah," added James. "It's not like any of your old clothes'll fit."

A few dull thuds and a small crash (probably caused by Peter cracking the mirror - he'd done it before) echoed into the dormitory. After a pause, Sirius opened the door. He and James were greeted by an ominous silence, but no Peter.

"I'll check the laundry basket." James almost skipped over to the corner of the room and flipped up the lid of the wicker hamper. "Oh! Here she is!"

"_Bastards! _Ow, _ow,_ you're pulling my hair!"

Finally, a short curvy girl wearing a seething glare and not much else was extricated from the dirty laundry. Sirius let out a low whistle.

"Ew! Sirius, that's Peter!"

Sirius paled and made a noise like he'd thrown up in his mouth. "Right. I forgot. Forget the pranks, let's change him back, _now."_

_"_Well, it's about damn time!"

With that, Peter flounced - actually _flounced_ - out of the bathroom and down past the dormitory. His friends followed him closely, trying _very _hard not to ogle at his arse.

"This is seriously disturbing," muttered James to Sirius, as they ran from the flabbergasted students in the common room.

"You got _that _right."

...

Later that night, James and Sirius escorted a newly masculine Peter back from Professor McGonagall's office. The woman had been extremely disconcerted by Peter's little problem and his even littler outfit. She'd quickly found him some suitable clothing, but it had taken her quite a while longer to find the counter-jinx. After a warning to not play around with such strong magic in the future, she'd had to let all three boys go. Even though there was no proof, she was _sure_ that Potter or Black had been behind it somehow.

The boys were trying to figure out who the culprit had been, either to congratulate them, hex them in revenge, or to steal the spell for future use.

"Well, it wasn't me, because I would have tried to do the whole house, and it wasn't Sirius because he'd have tried to do the whole school. It wasn't you, Pete, was it?"

The smaller boy shook his head vigorously, glorying in his newly short hair. "Unlike you, James, I don't really need to get in touch with my feminine side."

"Oi!"

"What we really need to know," interrupted Sirius, "is who you've been pissing off lately... actually, give us a list. Just a recent one - I don't want to be here all night."

Peter cocked his head to the side and stared at the ceiling, counting off on his fingers. "Well, I spilt syrup on a group of fifth years at breakfast, I stood on some Hufflepuff's foot on the way to Herbology, I borrowed Longbottom's Arithmancy textbook and forgot to give it back, I spilt ink all over the Ravenclaw Prefects' meeting, I accidentally ate all Lupin's chocolate, I sneezed in Penny Arthur's hair-"

"Wait, what was that one?" James pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and looked at Peter expectantly.

"Penny? Er, fourth year, hair down to her knees, hates pineapple-"

"No, the one before…"

"Oh, Lupin. It won't be him - apart from that thing with the Slytherins on Sorting Day and the explosion in Potions a couple of weeks ago, he's been pretty quiet. And it wasn't even good chocolate. It left a funny taste in my mouth for the whole rest of the day. It made my head itchy too. I think I was allergic to something in the-" Peter frowned at James and Sirius, who both seemed to be trying not to laugh.

"Booby-trapped chocolate, James!"

"_Inspired."_

"Wish we'd thought of it first."

"It's official. Lupin's a god."

Peter felt vaguely disgruntled by this exchange. Didn't they care that he'd had to endure almost a whole day of mockery just because he hadn't been able to resist the smell of chocolate and keep his hands to himself? He turned to James as the other boy flung a comradely arm around his shoulders.

"Word to the wise, my man. Don't get between Lupin and his chocolate."

Peter shrugged off the arm, shuddering. "Don't worry, James - I don't think I'm ever going to eat chocolate again."

"Brace yourself Pete. We're coming up to the common room - I think the second year boys are working on a poem for you." Sirius smirked. "I might have helped a bit. They couldn't think of a proper rhyme for 'shaggable'."

_"Password?"_

"Sirius Black's a dickhead?" offered Peter, scowling darkly.

_"Venomous Tentacular," _James corrected. The portrait swung in, and he stopped dead at the sight of the notice board._ Peter_ _could not be allowed to see these. _James twisted and tried to shield Peter's face with a well-placed armpit, but it was too late.

...

Up in the dormitories, Lupin lay back on his bed, munching on a bar that hadn't been eaten the night before. He absently wondered if Peter had seen the new photo-spread on the house notice board yet. As an embarrassed, horrified and shockingly girly shriek echoed up the stairs from the common room, Lupin grinned wolfishly.

Wait until Pettigrew figured out that those sticking charms were permanent.

* * *

**4. Lurking Lurkers Who Lurk**

**Warning** - due to nausea, dehydration and far too much porridge, the POV in this is a little flickery. It changes between James, Sirius and Remus, but it shouldn't be too confusing.

Sirius had discovered the school kitchens on his first Tuesday at Hogwarts. By the following Monday, he and James Potter were making nightly food expeditions, with a little help from James' invisibility cloak. Tonight was their thirty-second trip. Sirius wanted a cake to commemorate the occasion.

Preferably a big one.

With sprinkles.

He was arguing his case with James. The other boy didn't sound too convinced, though this was probably because he wanted icecream instead.

"Come on, James. You've got to admit it's pretty impressive."

"What? Your nose? Not a patch on Snape's, but-"

"No, you egg! It's been more than a whole month, and we haven't even seen anyone!" Sirius smiled happily, enveloped in the massive cloak.

James' voice hissed at him from his own bit of cloak. "Shut up! Look, there are people out tonight!"

"Well, there's a first. Who'd be out at ten in the evening on a Thursday?"

"Apart from us, you mean?"

"Well, yeah..."

The two boys huddled behind a statue of Isaac the Insomniac. (They'd forgotten that they were invisible.) James muffled Sirius' shocked gasp with a spare sock and peered out at the two figures facing each other in the middle of the deserted corridor.

"Ew," moaned Sirius, extracting the sock. "Why do your feet always taste like beetroot salad?"

James elbowed Sirius excitedly. "Look! The closer one's Remus Lupin! The book guy from the train! And I think that's one of the Slytherins with him." James squinted out from under Isaac's stone elbow. "Too old to be Snivellus. Too thin to be Crabbe…"

"It's Avery," said Sirius quietly, discarding the damp sock, "but what the hell does he want with Lupin?"

The boy in question didn't seem intimidated by the menacing way the older Slytherin had his wand pointed between his eyes. Dressed in his ever-present sweater and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, Lupin had to crane his neck to meet the taller boy's malevolent glare. His own wand was sticking out of the back pocket of his pants.

_It's not going to help him there! _thought James wildly. _It might as well be shoved up his bum!_

Lupin had his arms folded across his chest and was looking up at the other boy with an air of... boredom? Sirius shook his head, trying to clear it. Something was off. Why wasn't Lupin afraid?

As if on cue, the younger boy started to speak, and James gripped Sirius' sleeve tightly, both boys leaning forward to hear better.

"I should warn you," said Lupin, coldly, "That threatening me is a very bad idea. I have a little... problem. With my temper. Bad things happen when people piss me off."

The tone of his voice sounded a little odd coming from the mouth of a skinny eleven-year-old, but Lupin managed to pull it off, narrowing his eyes slightly in an expression that almost made Sirius shiver.

Avery didn't notice and just laughed mirthlessly. "You don't even know a single decent curse yet, filthy little half-blood. Maybe I should show you a couple. A demonstration, if you like."

James contemplated running or screaming or trying to perform a curse that would stun the six foot Slytherin who loomed over the boy he barely knew, or at least turn him into a small can of tuna. Instead, he found that he couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He could barely even breathe. _So much for the famous Gryffindor courage, _he thought to himself bitterly. Sirius wasn't in much better shape - he was shaking, but James couldn't tell if it was in fear or rage. It might even have been the start of a drug induced coma - James wasn't quite sure where that sock had been.

Lupin's breathing became shallow and quick. As Avery began muttering a dark curse the others hadn't even heard of, Lupin cocked a fist and punched him in the face. It was obviously a well-practiced move, connecting with Avery's nose in a sickening crunch of bone and cartilage. James found himself wondering how many times Lupin had been forced to defend himself to get this good.

"You see? Adrenaline rush. Just like that," Lupin said to the groaning body lying at his feet. He kicked the wand out of Avery's hand carelessly, and it skittered away across the cold flagstones. "I'd go get that nose looked at, if I were you. It's probably broken." He rubbed his wrist absently and walked off, leaving a dumbstruck James and Sirius in the shadows. The two boys turned to each other, mouths hanging open, both eerily resembling goldfish.

"_How did he do that?_"

James just shook his head in admiration. "Let's forget the kitchens and just go back. I think this is enough excitement for one night."

"No. _No._ Lupin just broke Avery's nose. _Avery._ I always hated him. He used to practice all his new hexes on me, at my family's garden parties..." Sirius shuddered at the memory. Avery had a fairly extensive collection of nasty cursed, and he updated it _very _regularly. "No," he repeated, "this calls for some_ serious _celebration." Ignoring his friend's protests, he dragged the other boy back towards the kitchens, leaving a whimpering figure slumped against the wall behind them.

Neither boy noticed that Lupin had stopped in the very place where they'd been hiding only a minute ago. The hint of a proud smile touched the corners of his lips, and he sniffed lightly at the statue. "Black and... hmm. Potter," he muttered to himself. "Interesting."

With that, he sauntered off in the general direction of the Gryffindor common room, humming happily under his breath, a wet sock dangling from one hand.

No one ever expected the Muggle approach.

* * *

**5. And the Moral of This Story is: Never Run _Anywhere_**

_"The curious phenomenon of the famous "Hogwarts mistletoe" dates back to the origins of Hogwarts itself. Fabled to be the result of an argument between Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin, this deadly plant _(Hogwartus Snoggius)_ traps those who walk beneath it. The plant then keeps them magically bound until they kiss, faint or die. Though students have been known to fake unconsciousness on occasion, the mistletoe has never been fooled yet. Eradication has frequently been attempted, most notably by ex-Headmaster Phineas Black, after (according to school folklore) he was trapped underneath a sample of the plant for three days with the Astronomy Professor of the time, a Mr. Bartholomew Withers."_

_- An excerpt from Hogwarts, a History._

...

"_God rest ye, merry Hippogriffs, let nothing ye dismay! Partake of chicken carcasses as feast on Christmas Day! Da da da da da da da da da I don't know the words, doodleoo doo, great tidings of pumpkin and Roy!"_

"Black! Put a sock in it. Its _four in the bloody morning."_

"No. It's half seven. Get _up."_

_"Nnnggg."_

_"_Up, up, UP!"

_"_Who's Roy?"

"Shut up_, _Pete!"

"Sirius Orion Black, if you try and jump on me I will _hex you where you stand_."

Sirius seemed to have gone conveniently deaf, and bounced onto Remus' bed, landing with a solid thud in the middle of his friend's stomach.

"_Aarggerroffme!"_

"Sorry. Well, I'm not. Buuuut..._ Happy Christmas Moony_!"

"Need. To. Breathe."

"Oh, right." He rolled off the bed and threw himself on another, which happened to have Peter in it. Ignoring the piteous moans coming from somewhere under his left leg, he broke into song again.

"_God rest ye merry Hippogriffs, ye maulers maul away! For limbs are overrated and gangrene is here to stay!"_

Remus stuck his head out from under the covers. His hair was disheveled in a way that only James' could hope to rival.

"Sirius," he said, "Peter can't breathe. Please get off his face. And I don't think that you've quite got the words right-"

An explosion from the last bed in the room knocked him off his train of thought.

"Shit. Bloody _shit. _Buggering fuckity fuck, _shit."_

"Ah. James is awake, I see. New alarm spell doesn't work, then?"

"Shut up, Moony. _I can't feel my face." _A soot blackened creature emerged from James' bed, feeling for the aforementioned face. A dirty hand latched onto what looked like a nose and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "No, wait. Hang on. Got it." The creature grinned triumphantly, white teeth gleaming through layers of soot. "Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas, Jimmy boy! We've got presents!" Sirius flung himself from the bed, Peter choking in the remnants of his duvet, and landed amongst a heap of brightly coloured parcels. "This one's for you, Moony... here, Pete, these are yours... James, catch that one!" He threw the presents at his friends slightly harder than was safe.

"_Oof._ All I want for Christmas is a new kidney…"

"Shut up and open the thing. _It's from me!"_

Remus prodded the present gingerly. "It won't bite me, will it?"

"No. Well… no. That was your birthday, and it was a mistake, and we shall _never speak of it again._"

Remus eased off the paper gingerly, bracing himself for the worst. The wrapping fell away, and he stared at the gift, dumbfounded. It was a book. An expression of wonder bloomed across his face. Sirius had bought him a _book. _No dungbombs, no toilet seats, no fireworks (tempting as the last may be, with their lovely sparkle sparkle, flashy flashy). A _book._

"Oh, Sirius! _The Complete History of Wizarding Chocolate?_ Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for that?"

"Well, yeah. Do you have any idea how long I've been trying to stop you from_ buying _the damn thing?"

"_It was you!" _Remus clutched his new book to his chest, as if Sirius might try to throw it out a window.

"Best Christmas present ever, right?" Sirius said hastily. "Better than socks?"

"Better than socks, yes. Thanks, Sirius. Really"

"Anytime," said the other boy, a big grin on his face. "I'm on a _roll _this year, present-wise. I even got one for my darling Minnie."

"Your who?" asked Peter. He was eye-deep in a massive sack of chocolate frogs, chocolate already smeared in his hair, his clothes, his bed and on his face.

"Professor McGonagall," James said. "He always gives her stuff. Got her a hat for Halloween, I think."

"That wasn't a _hat,_" protested Sirius, "It was a work of art! It took me weeks to charm it to meow right! Anyway, this present is even better."

"Alright," sighed Remus. "What have you gone and done?" He was still absentmindedly nuzzling his book, running a hand up and down its embellished cover.

"Cat food," said Sirius proudly. "In her desk."

Peter threw a frog at his face. "Have some chocolate," he said, shaking his head mournfully. "It was nice knowing you. Sort of."

"He's dead, what's new," said James, flapping a hand impatiently. "_I _wrote a poem. For Lily." A dreamy glaze ghosted over his eyes.

Remus cradled his head in his hands, nestling his forehead against the book. "For the love of all that's holy. You. Poetry." He shook his head helplessly. "_You," _he repeated, "_Poetry." _This was _not _going to end well. A thought struck him and he jerked upright. "She hasn't read it yet," he said wildly, "or she'd have hexed you to the middle of next November! But there's still hope! You can burn it now and she'll never know!"

"I can read it for you now, if you want," James continued, totally oblivious. "I've got a copy here, hang on a tick-" He fished around in his pillowcase, extracting several crumpled sheets of parchment. He brandished them with a dramatic flourish, cleared his throat and began to read.

"My love for you is like a red, red-"

"-fish," Sirius interrupted in a deadpan voice. "Vaguely slimy, a little squiffy and with far too many tentacles."

James folded his arms and flopped down on the bed in a huff. "Well it sounds silly when you say it like_ that_."

Remus groaned into his book. This was worse than the time he'd accidentally told James that Lily liked the Muggle band Queen. James had somehow gotten hold of all their records and presented them to Lily with a note asking if he could maybe listen to them with her (in a totally non-date-like fashion, of course). Lily, shocked, had actually agreed. James promptly ruined it by trying to kiss her, and she'd retracted her invitation.

The look of angelic victory on James' face had lasted even longer than the carrotyness of his nose.

"I'm going to go and see if she's read it yet," James announced. "Coming, Pete?"

"Of course. Someone's going to need to drag what's left of your mangled remains to the Hospital Wing."

"I'm going back to bed," said Remus decisively. He wriggled back into his crumpled bed, his body curled protectively around his new book.

Sirius pressed his ear against the wall and waited for the angry screaming that would signal James and Peter's arrival.

He didn't have to wait long.

Remus and Sirius fell asleep to the happy strains of their two best friends shrieking as they were attacked by one sleep-deprived, angry Gryffindor First Year girl. One who _did not like poetry._

…

"Why didn't you wake me up, you plonker!"

Remus was racing towards the Great Hall, Sirius puffing in his wake. Both boys were trying to dress as they ran, shirts haphazardly buttoned and hanging off their shoulders.

"I was asleep too, Moony! This isn't my fault!"

Remus hurtled round the corner, bare feet slipping against the cold flagstones.

"Get a move on!" he yelled over his shoulder, "We're going to be late for Christmas lunch! Not even _James _is ever late for Christmas lunch!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming, keep your shirt on!" Sirius was booking it down the corridor behind him, sprinting flat out. He took the corner wide and skidded along the newly-waxed floor, his Herbology boots (they were the only shoes he'd been able to find in the mad panic to get downstairs before all the food was gone) leaving an impressive trail of dirt on the sparkling entrance-way. He smirked to himself, in spite of the situation. he could almost _feel _Filch shuddering. Just as Remus rounded the corner into the Great Hall, Sirius careened into him, knocking him flying into the path of some-

The two boys looked at each other, then up at the ceiling, then at each other. Then up at the ceiling again, just for kicks. Sirius glanced about the room, suddenly noticing that there were far more students than normal staying over the Christmas break. And every single one of them was staring at _him._

"Sirius," said Remus in a tight little voice. "Tell me I'm hallucinating, and that's not mistletoe."

"You're hallucinating and that's not mistletoe," parroted Sirius dutifully. He'd gone very quiet.

The two boys simultaneously became aware of their compromising position - Sirus was pressed up full length against Remus, effectively pinning him to the floor. Remus lurched to his feet, held out a hand and pulled Sirius up with him.

"What do we do now?" he hissed. "I am _not _kissing you. You'd probably taste like dog or dead children or something."

Sirius grinned evilly. "Everyone's watching," he breathed. "I think we should give them a bit of a show, don't you?"

Remus quirked his eyebrow, but gave a tiny resigned nod. That was all the encouragement Sirius needed. He grabbed Remus by the wrist and yanked him into his arms. He gazed up at the taller boy with a love-struck expression, and took his face in two hands.

"Ah, Remus, my darling angel!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "For too long I have repressed the burning passion of my love for you!" He bit his lip, pretending to be overwhelmed by emotion, but actually trying not to crack up at Remus' gobsmacked expression. "Oh, Remus, this wondrous mistletoe has allowed me to claim that which is rightfully mine!"

As Remus and the rest of the Great Hall watched in fascinated horror, Sirius swooned against his friend's chest.

_In for a knut..._

"_Sirius!_ What are you -"

"Shh! Just play along!"

_...in for a Galleon._

"Wha-"

Remus just had time to turn his head to the side before Sirius stuck his tongue in his ear.

Tongue.

In.

His.

_Ear._

"Ew! Arg! _Rape!_" Remus flailed wildly against Sirius, as sharp teeth bit down on his earlobe. "James, help, _I'm being violated!"_

Sirius grabbed Remus' chin and pressed a swift kiss to his lips. The mistletoe gave a loud bang, shooting red and green sparks over the two boys.

The students in the Great Hall had never cheered so loud.


	2. Second Year

**6. Holidays Are Just an Excuse to Break Things.**

Peter – In Which There is an Accident, a Spoon and the Memory of Pickles.

Peter was missing Hogwarts. In particular he was missing the fact that when he was there, he didn't have to cook. Of course, unless you were a part of the Pettigrew household, cooking didn't generally involve dragon-hide gloves and safety googles. Unfortunately for Peter, he'd never known any different. The poor boy was crouched behind the battered kitchen table. He nervously eyed the merrily bubbling cauldron balanced in the middle.

He _hated _cooking.

"Add the salt and stir clockwise, please!" Peter's mother was furiously chopping ingredients, reading the recipe aloud from the remains of a battered cookery book that looked as if it had been dropped in tea, partially fed to a cat and set on fire at least twice. Mrs Pettigrew was a short little witch with bent glasses, a button nose and far too much hair. As her son dutifully began to stir, her eyes widened and she flung herself under the table.

"Petey! No! I meant_ anticlockw_-"

"_BOOM!_"

...

Cooking with his mother, Peter thought to himself placidly, was a little like Potions class at Hogwarts. But, you know, with Remus as the professor. And with large tigers instead of cauldrons. He idly examined the ceiling as his nose bobbed against it gently. At least this debacle hadn't left him smelling like pickles again.

He _hated _pickles.

"Don't worry, honey bear! I've got a new recipe we can try," his mother sang, hooking him down with a broom handle from where he was floating around the light fittings with an ease born of far too much practice.

Peter swallowed a groan and pasted a slightly manic grin on his face. He re-adjusted his safety goggles and picked up a spoon, resigned to his fate.

He _hated _new recipes.

...

James – In Which We Explore the Perils of Sun in Your Eyes, Misleading Hats and a Deadly Book.

James spiraled up above the fence, his invisibility cloak clumsily tied to the handle of his broomstick. He hadn't flown in almost three months. _Three months._ He hadn't flown _since he'd gotten back from school_. After almost being seen by the mad old lady down the street, his dad had locked his beloved broom in the shed and forbidden him to touch it.

The following weeks had been sheer torture. James was _made _to be on a broom.

But, after careful weeks of preparation, he'd finally managed to nick an unattended wand and liberate his baby.

The wind whipped at his hair, stinging his face and tearing up his eyes. His glasses were shoved up the sleeve of his shirt, so that they wouldn't fall off and land on someone. He let out a fierce yell and flipped upside down, looping wildly through the sky.

_This _was what he was made to do.

_This _was living.

The ground flashed beneath him in a riotous whirl of (slightly blurry) colour. As he reached a small park in a Muggle part of town, he slowed, carefully circling the tree line. The park was deserted, except for a lone girl on a picnic blanket with a book. A large straw hat was firmly fixed to her head. She'd dropped her book and seemed to be watching the sky. If he didn't know any better, he'd have said she was watching him. He swept down into a spectacular dive, pulling up sharp about a foot from the ground. He flew the broom over to the girl, who was now definitely watching him.

Shit.

His cloak must have-

"Is this yours? She asked, squinting up into the sun. "It fell off when you were flipping around earlier. You're really good, you know." James reached down, still on his broom, and took the cloak.

"Thanks," he said with an easy smile. Best to turn up the charm if he didn't want her to somehow figure out who he was and tell his parents...

"Potter_?" _The girl seemed to be fighting the urge to scream or laugh or faint. He wasn't quite sure - she was a bit blurry. _And _she knew who he was.

_Shit._

"Uh, yeah. Hi! Do I know you?"

"_Potter?"_

"Oh, right, glasses. Sorry about that, I just didn't want to break them again. Hang on, I'll just-" James fished them out of his sleeve and balanced them on his nose. "Hello… _Evans?" _He promptly fell off his broom.

"Oh God. Potter," she said again. She seemed to have forgotten how to say anything else.

"_Fuck,_" he said fervently. "Evans, I think your book has somehow become lodged in my spine."

...

Sirius - In Which We Use Sign Language, Attend a Dinner Party and Are Terrified By a Fishing Net.

_Okay. I pick dare._

Sirius grinned at his younger brother from across the table, fingers flickering through the air.

_You sure? No backing out this time._

Regulus rolled his eyes, his hands forming the words it wasn't safe to say aloud.

_I'm sure. But, oh Merlin, please don't get me killed._

Sirius bit his lip, thinking. Learning sign language had been one of Regulus' more brilliant ideas. It meant that the dreadful dinner parties they were both forced to endure were a little less tedious. When he got back to school (One week to go, thank _Merlin), _he'd have to teach James, Remus and Peter. It would make carrying off pranks in the middle of a crowded corridor _way _easier. And speaking of crowded corridors… a past prank came to mind, and he snickered to himself. Would Regulus be up to it? Of course. They were brothers, after all.

_Okay. I dare you to… _His fingers flew faster than his brother could follow, fluid in a blur of almost-words and obscene gestures.

_Slow down, slow down. You want me to _what? _With a, a... lemon? In the WHAT?_

Sirius nodded. His brother frowned.

_Do you want me to get _disowned,_ you moronic Gryffindor?_

The older boy just shrugged. _No backing out, remember._

"Sirius? Are you having a seizure?" The tall girl seated next to Sirius was staring at his hands as if they might detach from his wrists at any moment. Her wild black hair had been trapped in what looked like a fishing net. Were it not for the unfortunate smear of mint sauce on her chin, she might have been intimidating. As it was, though...

"Stop looking so hopeful, Trixie. I was fixing my tablecloth."

"Don't call me that, imbecile. And Blacks don't _fidget. _We pay people to do it for us."

Sirius eyed his brother, begging silently. _Please? I'll even distract them for you!"_

_Fine. But if I'm going down, you're coming with me._

_Of course. Wouldn't have it any other way._

_..._

"REGULUS! SIRIUS!"

"You rang, sir?" Sirius took a small step forward and to the side, imperceptibly shielding Regulus from their father. He knew from past experience that if he could get in the way, Regs would soon be forgotten and left alone.

"You will _both_ remain in the cellar until further notice. There will be _no talking. _If I have to beat this foolishness out of you, I will."

"Yes, Father," Regulus mumbled from behind his hair. He'd flopped it into his eyes to hide his face, just in case Sirius couldn't do the job. It seemed to have worked so far - the cellar wasn't that bad.

Mostly.

…

_It's not that dark in here, you know._

_I know._

_Oh well. I Spy With My Little Eye, something beginning with… W._

_...Wall?_

_Shut up._

_You know you love me, Regs._

...

Remus - In Which We Discover Letters, Itching Powder and Over-Analyzed Handwriting.

Remus was in a tree.

It was quite a nice tree, all things considered. The kind of tree with nice wide branches that were _perfect_ for sprawling on. It was right in the back corner of the garden, almost out of sight of the house. Mind you, _almost _was the most he could ever hope for when it came to privacy - his parents were a little overprotective. It was totally understandable, but just a little annoying.

He'd packed his school trunk already, along with his best spell books - as he'd promised James - and was positively _itching _to get back to Hogwarts for second year. (Actually, the itching might have been from Sirius' last letter, which was covered in an ominous white powder that had settled in his hair and clothes before he could figure out that it was, in fact, about half a pound of Dr Kratzig's finest Skratch 'n' Itch.)

Up in his perch, he'd gathered a pile of parchment in his lap and was flicking through the pages, examining each slowly and thoroughly.

_The Twelve Uses of Snake Venom in Healing Potions._

_Fifty-Seven Reasons Why James Potter is a Total Prick, and Sirius Black is Awesomeness Personified._

_this is a map of the second floor bathroom to remind pete that he has to stay away from the one on the end b/c he keeps getting stuck and we're not getting him out next time_

_How Edgar the Unclean Won His Kingdom._

It had taken him a while to get around to organizing everything from last year, Remus thought to himself. Only a week left before he went back to what he privately thought must be Heaven. At his last school, he'd just thrown everything out at the end of each year. But now, he was sorting through old assignments, carefully putting some aside to keep, crumpling up others and tossing them into the compost heap over the fence.

There were letters, too. Remus had never gotten a letter before, so he'd kept them all in another neat pile. James' scratchy chicken-scrawl, Sirius' forced copperplate, Peter's round, primary school script. His _friends._

Mind you, having never gotten letters before, he wasn't entirely sure that these were what 'letters' were supposed to be. These were far too insane to count as letters. He shook the creases out of one particularly ink-splattered specimen. It seemed to be three whole pages of James raving about falling off his broomstick onto some lilies, and then another two about a chiropractor.

Did wizards even _have _chiropractors?

* * *

**7. We've Got to Get Back to Hogwarts**

One Week Earlier...

_"No way. No. Definitely not."_

_"You think so?"_

_"I know so. It took us a whole week to even get him out of that book. And it was almost a month before he stopped forgetting that we're his friends!"_

_"True. He never would."_

_"I never would what? Ted? Jackie?"_

_*hem hem*_

_"We, Theodore and Jackson Simmons of 42 Coppersfield Street do hereby double dog dare you, Remus Lupin of Tent-on-the-Beach, to..."_

_"To what? I'm not stealing Millie's knickers, that's mean. Plus, Ted's done it already. Twice."_

_"..to shave your head!"_

_"Oh. Bugger."_

_"See, I said he'd never do it."_

_"Wuss."_

...

_"Shut up and give me the damn razor."_

...

Remus had already been on the train for half an hour when two black haired boys erupted into his compartment. One of them somehow ended up wedged in the luggage rack, while the other knocked into Remus, shoving him up against the window in an uncomfortable tangle of robes and elbows. Remus adjusted his worn brown beanie hat with all the dignity he could muster. (Which was about as much as that of a squashed cat.)

"Nice hat, Moony. This remind you of anything?" Sirius asked offhandedly, from where he was sprawled across Remus' lap.

"Very much so," replied James. He peeled himself off the floor and brushed imaginary dust from his shoulders. "From what I can remember," he continued, glancing at Remus' watch, "You have about...six hours or so until you start trying to take your clothes off."

"Shut _up_. That never happened, okay?" Glancing out the door from his position on his friends leg, Sirius brightened visibly.

"Pete! Get in here, you daft sod!"

The short, plump boy threw himself through the door as if he was being chased by wolves. (Not that he had anything against wolves, of course. Lovely people.) He immediately slung his trunk on the floor and began rummaging through it, socks and parchment flying everywhere.

"A-_ha!" _With a dramatic flourish, he brandished what appeared to be a sealed soup flagon. Muttering to himself, "_Stupid mum - never cooking again- I'd probably _die _if I tried drinking it" _he staggered over to the window, opened it and flung the flagon out. It shattered on the platform below with a satisfying splatter. A disturbingly thick cloud of orange steam wafted from the puddle, and Peter slammed the window shut with a frantic clatter before it could waft into the cabin.

"Er... it's nice to see you too, Pete."

Remus nodded understandingly. "I guess you've heard of his mum's cooking then, Sirius?"

Sirius blanched. "I ate one of her cookies once. Just once. I don't think my ears have ever been the same." He smoothed thick black hair down over his ears, totally hiding them from view.

Peter flushed. "I _told you _I was sorry about that," he said defensively, "but you always eat everything. Anyway, I had something to show you guys." He ducked out into the corridor, emerging a moment later with an enormous wrought-iron cage in his arms. "Meet Basil. He's my new owl. Isn't he _awesome_?" He grinned happily, spots of colour fading from his cheeks.

James cocked his head to one side. He opened his mouth, reconsidered, closed it again. He looked at Sirius helplessly, but the other boy seemed to be muffling laughter in Remus' knee.

"Peter," Remus said, taking pity on the other two, "Is it just me, or is he… pink?"

"Fuchsia, actually," said Peter, proudly. "I got him from my uncle."

"Pink," said James, in an awed tone. "Your owl is _pink."_

"He was brown when I got him," Peter explained, "But my mum fed him some toffee before we left this morning."

"Ah. Sounds like you had an eventful holiday, Pete."

Peter shuddered. "I don't want to think about it," he declared. "Remus, how were yours? Were they amazing?"

"All right, I guess. Went camping. Met some people. That kind of thing." He rubbed at his head absentmindedly.

"Were they more fun than us?"

"Oh, absolutely. Sirius, Professor_ McGonagall_ is more fun than you."

"_What? _But-"

"_McGonagall," _Remus hissed, "would never send a friend a letter laced with itching powder."

Peter gaped. "He did that to you too? The bastard."

"He should be hung," said James, quite matter-of-factly. "_Hung. _By his _ankles. _From the _Whomping Willow. _It took me a week to get that out of my hair - my parents thought I had fleas."

Remus adjusted his beanie self-consciously. "Well, I know your holiday can't have been that bad, James."

A satisfied grin spread over the bespectacled boy's face. "You could say that."

"I got a hysterical letter from Lily about some maniac falling on her from out of the sky," Remus continued. "I'm assuming that was you?"

The satisfied grin turned slightly shifty. "It might have been."

"Can she stand you yet?" Sirius asked innocently.

"We're planning a June wedding, actually. Pete's the flower girl-"

"Hey!"

"-Remus is going be the priest, and you can be the best man."

Sirius nodded sagely, still cushioned by Remus' knees. "And I'll embarrass the pants off you, of course, by, er…"

"Hiding said pants?" supplied Peter.

"Exactly."

"Fine then," huffed James. "_Someone _won't be invited."

"Well then, me and Moony'll have our own wedding, won't we? Darling?"

"Of course we will. Baby." Remus deadpanned. "I can see it now... me, drunk as a fish, propped up by the altar.. you in that hideous dress of your mother's-"

"How come I have to be the girl?_" _Sirius yelped, bolting upright.

Remus just arched an eyebrow, making Sirius pretend-swoon back into his lap.

"Because my eyebrows make you faint?"

"That's as good a reason as any," conceded Sirius. "But that ugly hat will have to go." Ignoring Remus' clutching fingers, he whipped the brown beanie off his friend's head and pitched it into the corner. Closing his eyes contentedly, he missed Remus' blush and James' frown.

"Remus," said Peter, trying to be casual and failing miserably, "Where, exactly, is your hair?"

Sirius' eyes flew open in shock. Sure enough, the familiar sun-bleached, collar length hair was gone. _Gone. _In the back of his head, a niggling thought wondered why he was so upset.

"I loved your hair," he said suddenly. "It was even better than _mine. _He started to mumble under his breath, occasionally glaring at the hat in the corner.

Remus smoothed his hand against his stubbly scalp awkwardly. "I know, I know. You don't have to say it. I look like a house elf."

Peter tipped his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. "You kind of do, actually," he said. "Something about the ears."

James shot him a look.

"What?" whined Peter, affronted. "It's true!"

"Tact, my dear Peter, is a skill that may one day save you from that awful stage in life when a girl may decide to hex your head into a turnip." James shook his head. "I've seen it," he said sadly. "It's not pretty."

Sirius was still rambling on about Remus' hair, oblivious to the rest of the conversation.

"-and it was all nice and shiny and it flopped in your eyes all the time and it smelled really good. Well, it looked like it would smell good, if I, you know, sniffed it. Which I didn't. And that's a shame, because now it's gone and I'll never have a chance to sniff your hair because you're BALDER than an EGG." He grabbed Remus' by the back of his neck and pulled him down to his level. Inhaling deeply, he sneezed as the short hair tickled his nose.

"Yuck! He sneezed on your _head!"_

_"_See?" Sirius wailed. "No smell at all!"

In the vaguely awkward silence that followed this announcement, Basil hooted happily and nibbled on a bar of his cage.

Remus buried his face in his hands and stifled a groan. Sirius copied him, earning himself a half-hearted smack across the back of the head.

"Put the hat back on. Your ears look cold," said Pete helpfully, retrieving the offending garment and shoving it back on Remus' head. A muffled yelp issued from somewhere that might have been his mouth, but as the hat seemed to have been pulled halfway down his throat, it was a little hard to tell.

"Sorry, Moony. What was that?"

More yelps and a worrying choking sound, as well as Remus scrabbling at the fabric over his face didn't really clear the matter up for Peter. Finally managing to rip the hat off, Remus gasped in a deep breath.

"I _said;_ arg, no, I can't breathe, I think I'm going to die."

Peter nodded wisely.

Ah," he said. "I thought so."

* * *

**8. Howlers and Porridge and Other Dull Occurrences**

Lily Evans casually spread butter on her piece of toast, a battered textbook open in her lap. She took a bite, totally absorbed in her work.

_...as discovered in the early 18th Century by Lord Alistair Emerson, renowned sorcerer and infamous supporter of poultry rights. Basic levitation theory states that when employing a Hovering Charm rooted in Latin – as opposed to a Greek or Hebrew incantation - one must always remember that the respective wand movements must be mirrored by..._

For a change, she wasn't being distracted by her noisy housemates. That probably had something to do with the bright pink earmuffs she was wearing - though they did clash _horribly _with her hair. And she hadn't stolen them from the greenhouses, thank you very much, merely borrowed them for a while.

A long while.

She'd borrowed them permanently, actually. Breakfast at the Gryffindor table was usually an unstable mixture of pitched battle and a vaudeville show, and she'd learnt to stay out of the way as much as humanly possible.

Today was the second Thursday of the month, so as Sirius merrily head butted a tall fifth year into his tottering stack of toast, he was accompanied by Remus belting out every song he knew at the top of his lungs. (This was because Remus, as it turned out, was complete bollocks at poker, Exploding Snap, and every other card game known to man. Almost as bad as he was at singing, but not quite. _Nothing_ was as bad as Remus' singing. Apparently, the only songs he knew were old Muggle comedy numbers and a couple of really filthy drinking chants.)

"_I once had the urge – and I had to obey it – to buy a french horn from a second-hand shop; I at once picked it up and I started to play it, in spite of the neighbors who begged me to stop!"_

Half the Hufflepuff table had been shooting him dirty looks for the past half an hour, and one particularly irritated Ravenclaw had already tried to hex his mouth shut.

"_If you give your wand to Wanda-"_

Obviously, it hadn't worked.

_"_-_then she'll make your mind a-wander_-"

At all.

"_- AND YOU'LL NEVER EVER WONDER-"_

"You can stop now, Moony! Mail's here."

Thank_ Merlin_," groaned Remus fervently, massaging his throat. "Another verse of that and I might have popped a blood vessel."

"If you'd started the next verse, McGonagall _would _have popped a blood vessel," said Peter thoughtfully. "I've always wondered what she had against a good drinking song."

"She's going to throw a fit soon anyway," Sirius replied, mouth full of sausage. "I don't think _anyone's _done any of that holiday homework she assigned. Apart from Moony," he added, as an afterthought, "But she loves him already."

James slumped back on the bench. "I'd forgotten about that," he moaned. "Whoever invented holiday assignments should be shot. In the head. And then fed to Mrs Norris."

"Shot?"

"Like... cursing for Muggles, I think, but a bit more messy."

A large, glossy black owl swooped down on the group, smacking Sirius in the back of the head with a heavy wing. It dropped its cargo without landing, leaving the hall as silently as it had arrived. As he realized exactly what the owl had left, Sirius' snort of laughter died in his throat. The little red envelope quivered into his marmalade, and he dropped the tureen of porridge that he'd levitated halfway off its trivet. It fell to the floor with a resounding clang, which echoed though the sudden silence at the table. The loud noise jolted Sirius out of his daze. A cool, shuttered expression dropping down to cover the emotion in his eyes.

"I'd best take this, gents," he said, quietly. Picking up the now-smoking letter with slightly sticky fingers, he strode purposefully from the hall. He was almost at the door when there was a bang, a shriek, and a woman started to scream.

_"Sirius Black! How _dare_ you not apply for a re-sorting! A Gryffindor! In my own family! You don't even _deserve _our name! A stain on our honour – We have not been this ashamed since your ex-cousin married that, that... Mudblood! Scum! Animals!"_

The whole hall had gone silent. Sirius was still facing the doors, his back unnaturally poker-straight. Remus and James glanced at each other, worried. James helpfully shut Peter's mouth for him, which was hanging open and dribbling cold porridge down the front of his sweater. Lily turned a page of her textbook, totally oblivious.

Still, the voice of Sirius' mother continued to howl, echoing off the cloud-spattered ceiling.

"I_f you have not been switched to Slytherin by Christmas, don't even bother coming back for the holidays! And if we hear so much as a_ whisper_ that you're still hanging around with those dirty-"_

There was another, louder bang, and the voice suddenly switched up an octave.

"_Yes, Sirius Blackity-black, you are a SKID MARK on the UNDERPANTS of SOCIETY! A blemish, a pockmark, a PIMPLE on the great nose of LIFE! Also, you smell rather of rotten soup! And peas! We all thoroughly disapprove of peas!"_

Once they'd gotten over the shock, most of the students had to stifle giggles. Sirius' uncomfortably rigid posture had relaxed, and he turned to face the Gryffindor table. He raised an eyebrow to James, who nodded over at Remus. His gaze snapped over to the other boy, who gave him a self-deprecating shrug as he slid his wand back up the sleeve of his robes.

A smile started to dawn in Sirius' pale face.

"_You must immediately break off your romantic liaison with a certain Giant Squid, no matter how true your supposed 'love' is! And please, at least TRY to grow out of your ugliness this year! You look far too much like a licorice allsort, and its UNDIGNIFIED!"_

With a last '_Ha!', _that came perilously close to hitting high C, the floating envelope shriveled up into a little pile of floating ash and scattered itself over the floor. Sirius blinked, twice, and began to walk back to the Gryffindor table in a bit of a daze. He sat back down between Peter and Remus, numb.

"Sirius? Mate, you okay?" James held out a fork, something unidentifiable and squishy speared on the end. "Sausage?"

Sirius looked from the sausage, to James' worried face and back again. And he started to laugh - silent, painful gasps of mirth. He pulled Remus into a fierce hug that probably should have been weird - people don't generally hug each other at breakfast, apparently - but somehow wasn't.

"Thanks Moony," he muttered into Remus' neck. "You always... you know. Help. Bloody letters, bloody family. Bloody sausages..."

Remus absently patted the back of Sirius' head. "That's what I'm here for, isn't it? Fixing things?" he asked, mildly. "And I'm sure it's not the sausages' fault. That's how they were cooked, I think-"

"Oh shut up and scratch my ear, you daft bean."

* * *

**9. Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time**

Remus sighed in defeat, piling books into a messy heap in his satchel. He slung the patched leather bag over his shoulder and skulked out of the dungeon, head lowered, avoiding the eye contact of a livid Professor Slughorn.

This was not fair _at all._

He was almost as good as James at Transfiguration. James, who at the age of nine and a half had gotten hold of a practice OWL and passed it with full marks.

He was the only one in the whole year who paid attention in History of Magic. In fact, if his morals had been less stringent (if, in other words, he was more like Sirius) he could have made a tidy profit off desperate students begging for a copy of his notes.

In Herbology, he came second only to little Alice Finch, the girl who'd once grown such a beautiful Flitterbloom cutting that Archie MacMillan had tried to snog it.

Other subjects - Arithmancy, Divination, Charms - were all much of a muchness. He was just flat out brilliant, barely needing to turn up for lessons, let alone study for hours until he was ink-smudged and irritable.

But he was _hopeless _at potions. There was no one in the entire world so irredeemably hopeless at potions. His cheering concoctions were apt to turn yellow and smoke alarmingly. His shrinking solutions had once reduced Professor Slughorn to tears. One memorable incident with some crushed beetles, too much Hinkypunk eye and a tiny mysterious green leaf had resulted in Sirius being carried to classes in a bucket for a week. (A _bucket._ For a _week. _James and Peter liked to bring the incident into conversation whenever they could, much to the embarrassment of the other two Marauders.)

All in all, when it came to Potions, Remus John Lupin was completely, utterly, _shit._

...

"So, Moony. What's the grand total now?"

Remus sighed. There was a new book his dad had owled him about that he was itchingto buy; _Why Werewolves are Wonderfully Wicked_ by Rudolph Shiess, the last in a series where the hero, a young werewolf, had to defeat the vampire clans in America and take vengeance for the deaths of his family. Remus really wanted to know how it ended - he just _knew _there was something funny going on with that vampire spy, Aiella - but it looked like he was going to have to get himself yet another second-hand cauldron instead. The four boys were walking back to the common room from another disastrous Potions episode. Sirius was running his fingers through newly-orange hair, Peter was rubbing his newly-orange nose and James was looking expectantly to Remus for an answer.

"Well," Remus said thoughtfully, squashing all his feelings of disappointment and pulling out a mocking smirk instead, "I'm not quite sure, but I think that's... thirteen cauldrons exploded, three melted, one vanished; half the class either swelled, shrunk or stupefied; four cases of accidental mass baldness, and the bucket incident."

Sirius shook his flaming head sadly. "It's official," he said. "You really do suck."

"Yeah. Even _I'm _better than you. No offense."

"None taken, Pete."

The four boys walked in companionable silence down the corridor. Surprised shouts and startled yelps punctuated the air as they passed. (James had his wand hidden up his sleeve and was idly hexing random students with anything he could think of, just for fun.)

"Hey, James?"

"Hmm? No, I think the purple was a nice touch…"

"_James?"_

"Oh. Sorry. I'm a bit distracted..." He trailed off again, adding some questionable spines to the purple with a flick of his wrist.

"I was just wondering, why are you so, er, _bouncy_? It s a little disturbing, actually. The wand doesn't normally come out until at least a quarter past twelve."

James shrugged, idly twirling said wand between his thumb and forefinger. "No reason, honestly."

Sirius stood on his foot, hard.

_"Ow!_ Git!"

"Last time you tried to give me those puppy-dog eyes, I ended up in detention for a _month. _Spill. Now._"_

Remus turned to him, eyes big and brown and innocent-wide in a mockery of James' attempt at looking blameless. "Well, it wasn't _his _fault someone wrote_ "Narcissa Black is a skank!" _in three-foot high letters on the Astronomy Tower roof and signed it with your name! He'd _never_ do a thing like that." He cocked his head to the side with a little smile. "Well, not without help, anyway. He's no good at Sticking Charms."

Sirius gasped. "It was _YOU! _Betrayed, I am - woe is me! I am alone and unloved!" He collapsed to the floor, faking wretchedly wailing sobs and tearing at his shirt. No one batted an eye, so he stopped, vaguely miffed. Remus hauled him up by the collar of his robes without even breaking stride, dragging him along with the group until he regained his footing with an undignified scramble.

"If you _must _know," James said in a bored tone, "I was in the Hospital Wing." He sighed, yawning pointedly.

Sirius frowned. "The Hospital Wing?" he echoed. "But who-"

"He was visiting Snivellus," Peter interjected. "Poor boy's kind of sick. "

"_Severus,_" Remus corrected pointedly. "Is very sick, and you should leave him alone. At least until he can hold up his own head without passing out. Fair's fair."

"Serves him right!" hissed Sirius. "Did you _hear _what he said to poor Nancy Abbot. She cried for hours, Frank told me. And then _I _said-"

"You sound like such a girl, mate."

"Shut up."

"_You _shut up."

"It was something he ate at breakfast, apparently." Peter continued loudly, breaking up the impending argument. "It made him throw up all over some Slytherin sixth years. "He shook his head sadly. Sirius winced despite himself, and motioned for Peter to explain further. "Pomfrey fixed most of the fractures immediately, of course, but he was still out cold when James and Remus got there. Pined at his bedside, they did. Kept the flame alive and all that shit."

"You told the Professor you had to find your Potions books!" said Sirius, jabbing an accusing finger dangerously close to James' left nostril. It was all very well to lie to a Professor, but in Sirius' opinion, lying to your friends was like... like trying to prank the Headmaster. It just wasn't done. Not that Sirius hadn't tried...

"Details," said James, waving a dismissive hand. "Anyway, we went to visit our darling grease-ball, but he was still unconscious. So l gave him a drink and we left."

"You gave him a drink?"

"Yes."

"A _drink_? After what he said?"

"Oh yes."

James was positively beaming now, barely controlled glee flickering from behind smudged glasses. Sirius narrowed his eyes.

"What was it?" he asked suspiciously. "Frog slime? Bubotuber pus?"

"Apple juice."

"Apple juice? Ew. That's practically the same colour as-" Sirius paled. "Oh God. You didn't. No. _You didn't. _Did you?" He turned to Peter appealingly. "Did he?"

"Did he what?" asked Peter, honestly clueless.

"Did he...you know. _Pee_ in it?"

James rolled his eyes. "Don't be silly," he scoffed. "Does that sound like something I'd do?"

"Well, not really. You tend to go for something a bit more, I dunno... obvious? You know, slimy things and fire and-"

"-it was Moony, of course," he continued proudly, totally ignoring Sirius' stupefied expression.

"_What?"_

_"What?"_

"Give it a rest, Sirius, Peter. James is just trying to rile you up... Hang on, WHAT?"

"Don't worry Moony - I already told everyone for you. See you all in Defense!" James hollered over his shoulder, rounding the corner. He didn't seem to realize that the only reason he was alone was that both Sirius and Peter were fully occupied, trying to keep Remus from jumping on him.

"Calm down, Moony," Peter said, trying to pat the struggling boy on the shoulder. What with all the thrashing around, he accidentally managed to smack Remus in the face.

Remus didn't notice.

"_You told everyone I did WHAT?"_

* * *

**10. I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends**

James had pretty much given up.

He and Sirius had been recruited by the Prewett twins to scout out the Charms classroom for a week. It was in preparation for what they were calling _"The Biggest Prank of All Time Ever!"_ (Fabian had a way of speaking that meant you could hear every exclamation mark, and threw a fit unless everyone else tried to do the same.)

The only problem was, neither James nor Sirius had any idea how they were going to manage to clear the whole room at three o'clock on Wednesday. No idea at all.

James was lying on the floor in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room. He was wallowing in self-pity like a pig in mud. "I'll never be a prankster again," he moaned. "I might as well hang up my firecrackers if I'm going to suck this bad forever."

"Wait! I've got a plan!" said Sirius, triumphantly. "We do... _this."_

There was a bang, and the room was enveloped in a cloud of putrid violet smoke. When the haze cleared, Sirius was still standing before him, a faintly disgruntled expression on his face.

"Well. That was awkward," he said, before turning on his heel and sauntering off towards the kitchens.

He was whistling. The bastard was _whistling. _James hit himself in the head with a pillow and moaned. This was all going to go pear-shaped. Bloody Sirius was not helping and_ still _whi- wait. Sirius was in the kitchens. And he couldn't whistle to save his life. That was-

"Wotcher, Lupin!"

The other boy was curled up in one of the armchairs, almost obscured from view by piles of books. He was wearing a thick brown jumper and a faded pair of old jeans. (Come to think of it, he was _always _wearing a thick brown jumper.) His thumb was pushed through a little hole that had been worn into the seam at his left wrist.

Lupin looked up from the book he was reading, still whistling softly between his teeth. James wondered if the other boy knew just how filthy the words to the tune were. Judging by the tiny sparkle in his eye, he did.

"Oh, sorry. Was I bothering you?" A quiet voice snapped James out of his reverie.

"Not at all," he said. Finally, an idea began to form in his head. He blurted it out before he could lose his nerve. "Actually, I was wondering if you could give me a hand."

"Homework trouble?"

"Er, well... it's not exactly _homework_, as such." The Prewetts wouldn't mind, he reasoned - ever since the Sorting, Fabian had come over sort of glazed every time someone mentioned Lupin's name. Gideon had started to drool whenever he saw the younger boy, especially if he was holding a book. James cleared his throat. "Well, it's... er. Like this. Um."

"Look," Lupin interrupted, putting down his book. "is this is about what you were planning for Wednesday?"

James gaped at the other boy. Lupin worried absently at the hole in his sleeve and waited.

"How did _you _know about-"

" How did I know about _"The Biggest Prank of All Time Ever!", _you mean?"

James nodded wordlessly. The guy was better at exclamation marks than _Fabian_ was.

"That's beside the point," said Lupin firmly. "But yes, I can definitely help you."

And he was off, in a flurry of it "_it wouldn't be hard to-" _, and _"you could always just-"_, and _"wouldn't it be funny if-"_, and _"I don't think you should, but how about-". _James had never seen him so animated. Most of the time, it seemed like Lupin just sat and watched life go by, with a raised eyebrow and a bit of a smile. But this wasn't the same Lupin. This _couldn't_ be the same Lupin. This strange, unfamiliar boy was more vibrant than Sirius, more enthusiastic than James himself; almost a blur of dramatic hand gestures and splashy ink diagrams and _planning._

Half an hour later, the hurricane burnt out. Lupin was crumpled against the leg of the sofa, panting. James was sprawled limply across his lap. The final product was draped over his glasses, smoking faintly.

"Oh Lupin. I could kiss you," said James, voice muffled by the parchment. "This is bloody perfect."

"No kissing please, but thank you. I tried." He shook the cramps out of his quill hand. "You can call me Remus, if you like," he said off-handedly, watching James from the corner of his eye.

"Sure. So I should make out the papers selling my soul to _Remus_, then?"

He laughed and tipped James out of his lap in a tumble of limbs and glasses.

"Bye, Remus."

Gathering his books into a tottering pile, Remus flipped him a lazy salute.

"See you around, James."

James leant back against the sofa in a bit of a daze. He felt drained, like he'd just run a mile from Filch and gotten detention anyway. As the portrait hole swung closed behind a library-bound Remus, Sirius hurtled through the small gap. He threw himself onto the ground and rolled over to James, army-style, his mouth full of cake. James looked at him oddly.

"What bit you, mate? Snitch up your bum?" Sirius returned the odd look with interest and half a chocolate eclair. James wiped the goop off his face with one hand, a piece of parchment held loosely in the other.

"Did you know there are more than thirty seven secret passageways in the castle?" he asked faintly. "I didn't."

"Me neither, but wh-"

"And did you know," continued James, " That there are at least three that lead to a particular Charms classroom? I didn't."

"No, but wh-"

"But Remus did."

A grin slowly dawned on Sirius' cake-laden face. "You got Lupin to help?"

"_Remus_," James corrected, "offered to help."

"And?"

"He's a genius, no two ways about it. Remember that time you met my cousin Hugo? The one with the moustache and the perpetual motion Dungbomb machine?"

Sirius nodded. "Our hero, you mean?"

"Well, let me tell you - dear old Hugo isn't even in the _league."_

"Give us a look then." Sirius flopped down next to James on the floor and unceremoniously grabbed the paper off him.

"Careful!" yelped James. "Don't rip it!"

Sirius' eye flicked down the page. He muttered aloud as he read. "Hide under the desks, keep the fireworks under the trapdoor for later, remember to tape up the windows…" He raised an eyebrow at James. "No way _you _could have come up with something this, this-"

"Devious?"

"Exactly."

James smoothed out the paper reverently. "I wanted to go for the whole crash bang smash, you know?"

"I know."

"But Remus managed to talk me out of it. He said it was-"

"Predictable?" Sirius finished.

James frowned. "Exactly. But I still don't see why..." he trailed off, a bit thrown by the dumbstruck expression on Sirius' face.

"He _talked you out of it? _Just like that?_" _Sirius knew all about the crash bang smash - he usually helped. But he'd never _ever_ managed to talk James down once he'd decided on something stupid. (Case in point: second week, James had found a book on Muggle 'bungee jumping'. After he'd launched himself from the top of the Astronomy tower, Sirius had decided that the Potter boy was totally mad, and had adopted him as his best friend immediately. A bottle of Skelegro and half a week in the Hospital Wing later, the friendship was cemented.)

"I don't really know how he did it," James shrugged. "One minute I was deciding on types of explosive and the next he'd distracted me with that bit about the colour changing shoelaces. Look, there. Near the bottom."

"Holy shit. Well, we're done, then."

"Let's go and tell the Prewetts."

Two tall boys in balaclavas and what looked like a large black tent popped up from behind the sofa as if they'd been summoned.

"Tell us what?" said the one on the left, as he disentangled himself from his brother.

"Yes, tell us what?" said the one on the right, vanishing the tent with a small flick from his wand. "Has Rookwood finally died in his sleep?"

"Has Hannah Stewart agreed to go out with me?"

"Have the Hufflepuffs been writing odes to my freckles again?"

"Gid, that was only because you jinxed their peanut butter."

"True."

"Oh," said Sirius excitedly, "so it was the _peanut butter. _I always thought you'd cursed their common room."

"No, but that's a good idea. We could-"

"Fabian! I know it hurts, but _focus!_" Gideon interrupted his brother with an elbow to the ribs, knocking the dreamy expression off his face.

"Right, right, sorry," said Fabian hastily. "That's, erm, for another time… What was it that you had to show us?"

"We've got a plan for Wednesday. _Finally._" Sirius held out the paper to the twins, who both took it at the same time.

Gideon let out a low whistle, and Fabian raised his eyebrows at the boys.

"This is really good," he said, happily.

"_Really_ good," added Gideon.

"I think we'd go so far as to say that this-"

"-is actually-"

"_-brilliant." _they finished together.

James rubbed at the back of his neck self-consciously. "Well, er…"

"The thing is, we didn't actually do it." said Sirius in a rush, the words ripping over each other in their hurry to leave his mouth.

"Well, not all of it, anyway." muttered James. "Remus helped."

"Who?"

"Remus." repeated James. There was no recognition. "You know, Lupin." Still nothing. "Kid with the book?" he asked hopefully.

"_No way."_

Matching expressions of glee lit up the twins' faces. "Finally turning him over to the dark side?" asked Fabian.

"Oh no. I think he was there _way _before us."

"Well, just wait for Wednesday," sang Gideon, "then we'll have to see if we can't recruit Lupin permanently…"

With an airy wave, he dragged his twin out through the portrait hole. "Just gonna go have a look for these tunnels!" he called as they disappeared down the corridor.

Sirius staggered upright and hauled the exhausted James to his feet.

"Bed. Sleep. Now." he ordered.

"Gnyarflesnuufle," replied James intelligently. He then promptly fell asleep.

"Shit." Sirius nudged at his friends shoulder with a toe, envying his ability to fall asleep anywhere and everywhere. History of Magic? Check. Dinner? Check. On a broom? Check.

Taking a firm grip on his ankle, he dragged James up the stairs, somehow managing to bump his head against every single step. He'd conveniently forgotten that a) he was a wizard and b) that he had a wand and several very useful levitation spells.

...

It turned out that the Charms lesson that Fabian and Gideon had targeted was a combined first year class of Ravenclaws and Slytherins. If someone had bothered to ask why, they would have said that it was all the fault of one of the Slytherins. Specifically, a short, fat one with far too much brown hair and only seven teeth. Apparently, he'd taken all the credit for one of the twins' more spectacular accomplishments (it was referred to school-wide as the Ice-Cube Incident) and they felt that he should be taken down a peg or three.

By the time the lesson had finished, the boy in question had actually fled the school, while the rest of his classmates had completely lost the plot. One thin boy with more grease on his head than hair was cursing everything he could see, adding to the mayhem. When Dumbledore finally arrived to sort everything out (returning noses and and other body parts to their original owners and so on), the greasy boy, past reason, hit the Headmaster with one of his hexes, and

Everything.

Stopped.

As the students looked on in horror, Dumbledore ruffled his yellow feathers.

"Bokbokbok, bok. BoCAWK! Bokbok," he said wisely. Settling down over his feet - er, talons - he deposited a steaming little pile in the very middle of someone's book bag. He squawked contentedly and waddled off, somehow still managing to pull off the whole dignified, regal Headmaster vibe.

From their hiding place in the tunnel under the classroom, Remus, James and Sirius exchanged proud smirks. From further down the passage came the sounds of hysterical cackling.

"Boys!" shrieked Fabian gleefully, "Remember _this _as the day that mischief became your calling in life!"


	3. Third Year

**11. Secrets and Other Hairy Things (Part One)**

It took until about January for Peter, Sirius and James to figure out there was something wrong with their dorm-mate.

Peter pointed it out first - despite the massive amounts of chocolate he consumed on a regular basis, Remus was still the skinniest of the four boys. He was even bordering on skeletal some days. Peter had worried he was anorexic or bulimic until he'd confronted him and Remus had almost passed out from laughing so hard. Then there were the frequent trips to the Hospital Wing, the constant tiredness, the monthly disappearances, the _scars_. Sirius had actually asked about them once or twice. It had gone a little like this:

"_Hey, Remus?"_

"_Mmm?"_

"_How'd you get that scar on your neck?"_

"_Oh. I got attacked by a feral rabbit last summer. Nasty little buggers, rabbits."_

_..._

"_Merlin, Remus. How'd you get _that_? Looks like something almost bit your arm off!"_

"_Nah. I just cut myself shaving."_

"_Are you serious?"_

"_No. You're Sirius."_

"_Wanker."_

"_Git."_

"_Ars- No! Don't! Not the tentacles!"_

_..._

"_Oi, Remus?"_

"_No, I won't show you a new hex, you don't need my help."_

"_Actually, I was wondering why you were limping this morning."_

"_I, er, fell out of a tree. Last night. When I was watching Malfoy and your god-awful cousin doing their-"_

"_EEW!"_

"_Yup. Pretty gross, potions homework."_

Due to Remus' amazing talent for evasion (or maybe just Sirius' non-existent attention span), the boys hadn't managed to figure out the monthly disappearances either. As Peter was still embarrassed about the anorexia incident, and Sirius continued to lose track of what he was saying whenever he say something shiny, James had been elected by the group to find out about this. He was currently failing even more miserably than Sirius had.

"_Hey, Remus! Where're you going? We still need to figure out that counter-jinx for that thing Evans did to Sirius' eye."_

"_I can't sorry - I'm seeing my aunt in Dover. She's got spattergroit."_

"_Oh. See you when you get back!"_

"_Yeah."_

"Funny," Sirius had said later, glaring at Remus' empty bed with two perfectly healthy eyes. "I didn't know Remus had an aunt."

The next attempt at finding the truth had crashed and burned just as badly.

"_Hey Remus! D'you want to come to the kitchens with Sirius and me? Peter's already down there - we think he found some fudge brownie."_

"_Can't, sorry. I'm visiting a…ahem, excuse me… a friend of mine, if you know what I mean."_

Remus had waggled his eyebrows laviciously in a move borrowed from Sirius. As his friends dissolved into helpless sniggering, he'd left the common room with a lazy grin. Ten minutes later, as the two boys relayed the story to Peter in the kitchens, they realized that they actually didn't have the foggiest idea what he'd meant. And Remus _never_ turned down fudge brownie.

...

They'd had a couple of false starts, too. Sirius had figured out Remus' secret quite quickly. Or at least, he thought he had. The confrontation had taken place at breakfast one morning.

_"Um, Remus?"_

_"Huh? What? Have I got butter on my nose again?"_

_"No, er... I just wanted you to know that I know. About you."_

_"..."_

_"Don't worry, I haven't told any of the others yet."_

_"...you don't mind? You aren't, oh, I don't know, FUCKING TERRIFIED OF ME OR SOMETHING?"_

_"Calm down, mate! You know, I've never heard you swear before... but you have nothing to worry about. I won't tell anyone about your jam allergy."_

_"My... my _what_?"_

_"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Well, it is a bit, I guess, but it doesn't change that you're my friend."_

Sirius had left after pulling the other boy into an awkward, choking half-hug. He failed to notice that Remus was barely suppressing hysterical gales of laughter, mistaking his red face and watering eyes as a brave attempt at not crying like a girl.

...

There were other clues that the boys totally missed. Little slips that didn't really matter until you put them all together. Though they were supposedly clever, Peter, Sirius and James collectively had the common sense of half a small rubber duck, and were utterly incapable of seeing what was right in front of them.

"_Hey Remus?"_

"_Yeah, Pete?"_

"_Why do you always need to borrow my Astronomy notes? I don;t think you've been to a class all year."_

"_I've just got better things to do than sit in a tower and stare at the moon. I do enough of that as it is…"_

"_You do?"_

"_Er, yeah. My room at home has a... skylight. Yeah. A skylight. So I can see the moo... Stars. Not the moo-stars, because I'm not a cow. And I don't moo. I meant the stars. Only the stars. No moon at any point."_

"_You're rambling, mate."_

"_Yeah, I know. Just chuck me the notes, will you?"_

But it _was_ Peter who figured it out first, after he found Remus' calendar under his bed, while looking for some vaguely clean trousers. Oddly enough, he was the most freaked out about it - something to do with a phobia of dogs that stemmed from an incident with a poodle on his eighth birthday. (He wouldn't elaborate. Ever. On pain of "gruesome, bloody dismemberment with Basilisk fangs," as he had one day sworn to a very impressed Sirius.) But James didn't care about the revelation either way, and if Sirius had been any more laid back he'd have fallen over.

"_Hey, Remus? Can we just talk to you for a minute?"_

"_If this is about my allergy…"_

_"Hem. Um. Well, not exactly."_

"_James, shut up."_

_"Sorry. Look, Remus. We know you're a werewolf."_

"_WHAT?"_

"_And we don't care."_

"_But you- I mean- what? You don't care? ARE YOU MENTAL?"_

"_No."_

"_HAVE YOU ALL GONE COMPLETELY INSANE?"_

"_No."_

"_Oh. Right. Er, are you sure?"_

"_Positive."_

"_Yeah. Look, as long as no one else finds out about your, ahem, 'furry little problem', everything will work out fine."_

"_We'll look after you... Moony."_

"_MOONY? Have you all LOST YOUR MINDS?"_

"_Sorry, Remus! They said it was either that or Wolf-boy. Or Hairy-fairy. Or-"_

"_Actually, Moony's fine."_

The rest of the school never quite figured out why Lupin was suddenly so much more relaxed, or why the first year Gryffindors were suddenly closer than brothers, or why every now and then they'd bust out laughing as if they knew something no one else did.

Most of them figured it had something to do with Lupin's rabid pet rabbit. Nasty little buggers, rabbits.

* * *

**12. Secrets and Other Hairy Things (Part Two)**

_Remus was half-asleep, lying in bed and listening to the heavy rain thrum against the roof of his attic room. There were three whole weeks until the next full moon, only two days until he was back at school, and he was _happy.

_His foot twitched lethargically, but it didn't jolt him out of his contented daze. Remus closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to October 10th, 1971._

_The day that everything he knew started to change._

_**-FLASHBACK-**_

James Potter had a secret. It was quite big, he thought, and kind of heavy. He was actually quite proud of it, even though it wasn't technically his. He'd managed to keep it to himself for a Very Long Time, but, as everyone knows, eleven-year-olds and secrets _do not mix._

By early October, James had become part of a pretty tight-knit group of first-year Gryffindors. Made up of Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin and himself, they called themselves the_ Marauders_, because every secret society has to have a secret name. In fact, the group was so close and so secret, James had decided to trust them with a secret of his own.

He'd lasted all of 41 days.

James had planned out the big reveal very carefully two weeks ago, and finally going through with it had him almost bouncing with excitement. He hid the emotion, though, or tried to. The more off-handed he could be about it, the better.

Entering the dormitory without his usual aplomb, James leant casually against the doorframe. The other Marauders hadn't noticed him yet - Peter was trying to clean up ink from where he'd spilt it all over his spare set of robes, while Sirius and Remus were crouched on the floor over a small pile of Muggle fireworks in various states of assembly. All three had their backs to the door.

"No, look," Remus said quietly to Sirius, who was listening with rapt attention, "It's the powder that makes them go off in the first place, yeah?"

"Yeah," agreed Sirius, "But-"

"But nothing. If we can get enough of it together, and _then _set it off..." He trailed off with an evil grin that James could actually hear.

"I love Muggles," said Sirius fervently.

James cleared his throat. Explosives were all very well, but only if _he _got to join in.

"James!" Peter said happily, abandoning his sodden clothing as a lost cause. "Mate, where've you been?"

"Out and about, it doesn't matter," James replied. "Hey, guys," he added, seemingly as an afterthought. His friends turned to him and he paused, drinking in the attention, before dropping the bomb. "So. Heard about the werewolf?"

Peter squeaked, Sirius fell over and Remus dropped his firework on his foot. James faked surprise. "Oh, didn't you know?" he asked innocently. "There's one at Hogwarts._ In our year._"

Sirius blinked a couple of times, before his face split into a wide grin. "That is _so cool!"_

"No, it's not," said Peter with a shaky laugh. "What if I made him angry? I'd be terrified!"

Remus crouched back down and started gathering the firework debris together. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly, his face a good three shades paler than it had been a minute ago. James frowned. Maybe Remus was scared of werewolves. Wait, no – _everyone _was scared of werewolves. Maybe it was just worse for him. He pushed it out of his mind and answered the question.

"Of course I'm sure! My Dad told me." James drew himself up self-importantly, but wilted a bit under Sirus' skeptical glare. "Well, I heard him say it," he amended. There was another look. "Well, I broke into his desk and went though the papers because they looked important. Happy?"

"Very," said Sirius, his grin back.

Remus glanced across at him and grinned too, mirroring the other boy's expression with almost frightening accuracy. "That's _awesome_," he said. "Do you know who it is?"

James shrugged. "Nah."

"I think it's that guy in Slytherin," said Peter, starting to warm up to the idea. "You know, the fat blonde one with the moustache."

"Really?" asked Sirius. "I think he's one of my cousins,"

"Oh."

"But you might be on the right track, Peter," he continued thoughtfully. "I mean, a werewolf would have to be in Slytherin, wouldn't they?"

"Yeah, definitely," agreed James, "a 'dark creature' and all that?"

Remus nodded, still wearing his bright fixed grin. "Right," he said. "Of course. And you're sure you don't know who it is?"

James frowned. "Don't have a clue. I'm pretty sure it's not me, though. Why?"

"Because I think we should make a_ Plan._"

The other three boys nodded enthusiastically. Everyone – and not just first years, either, _everyone – _already knew that when the Lupin kid came up with one of his Plans, you either wanted to be part of the planning or very, very far away.

"Er, okay," said Sirius. "With the fireworks? Cause I think I'm really starting to get the hang of those."

"Not that kind of plan. I think we should make a plan to..." Remus gave a funny sort of cough, as if he was smothering a laugh. "A plan to _Find The Werewolf._"

"I don't know," frowned Peter. "I'm quite fond of having all my limbs attached to my body, if its all the same to you."

Sirius laughed. "Like he'd eat _you. _He'd probably get rabies or something, if he didn't have it already."

"_Would not!"_

"Calm down, Pete," James placated. "I'm sure you'd taste perfectly fine."

"No- what? _No!_ I-_"_ Peter sputtered indignantly, before being cut off by Remus' coughing fit. "You right there, mate?"

Remus waved an impatient hand at him, eyes streaming. "Fine," he gasped. "Just got something stuck in my throat."

"So it's a plan, then?" asked James, taking charge. This was his secret, after all.

"It's a plan," agreed Remus. "We're going to find out who this werewolf is and- and-"

"_Feed Peter to him!" _Sirius dived on Peter with a feral growl as James started to laugh and Remus dissolved into another helpless coughing fit.

...

Weeks passed, and the Marauders hadn't found out a thing about their resident werewolf. Not a rumor, not a hint, not a _whisper. _It was like he wasn't even there. If James hadn't sworn up and down that he knew it was true, on pain of public humiliation, they mightn't have thought there was a werewolf at all.

The four friends were sitting in a circle on James' bed for one of what had become known as their FOWLS meetings (Figure Out Who Likes Shedding). Remus had pointed out that since werewolves were only technically _wolves _for one night a month, they didn't exactly shed, but it was too late. The name had stuck. Usually the meetings were quite exciting, with all involved throwing around insane guesses and wild theories. Every single one ended with the members accusing each other and starting a pillow fight, but this meeting was shaping up to be a little different. As the full moon drew closer, James noticed that they'd all become more strung out and snappish with the stress. Remus in particular – the other boy's face was pale and drawn, and he looked as if he was about to fall off the bed.

"You okay, mate?" James asked. "You look a bit ill."

Remus immediately straightened up, his neck popping with an audible click. "Ow. _Ow. _No, I'm fine, just a bit tired." He rubbed his neck ruefully and pulled a face at James. "Oh, that's right, and I've just broken my neck, because _some idiot _startled me."

Sirius cleared his throat pompously, ignoring the good-natured bickering coming from the end of the bed. "Let this meeting come to order. If Mr Potter and Mr Lupin with please shut their bleedin' cake holes, we can get on with it. Mr Pettigrew? This weeks findings, if you please?" He turned to Peter expectantly. Peter folded his hands properly and threw his shoulders back in a scarily accurate impression of Professor McGonagall.

"Settle down, boys," he said in a thin reedy tone. James snorted with laughter, and Peter went a bit pink, but smiled as he continued in his own voice. "I've narrowed _my _list down to Crabbe, Graham, Peters, Nott, Macnair, O'Leary-"

"O'Leary?" James frowned, trying to keep up with the seemingly endless stream of names. How did Peter _know _all these people?

"Guy in Ravenclaw," Sirius muttered to him in an undertone. "Really pointy teeth. Scar through his left eyebrow. Built like a brick shit-house."

"-Pollinger, Appleby and Vance, at the very least," Peter finished.

"Okay," said Remus, "Those'll be the ones we watch on this full moon, and if it's not them we can pick a new group for next month."

"Sounds good," said Peter. Sirius and James nodded absently. The group sat quietly for a second. James was pretty sure they'd forgotten something somewhere.

_Oh, that's right,_ he thought. "Huh. Anyone know when the full moon actually is?"

"The 2nd," said Remus absently, still rubbing at his neck. "Day after tomorrow."

Sirius frowned. "That doesn't give us much time to prepare..."

"Maybe we could split into pairs and just watch the Slytherin and Ravenclaw common rooms? That's where all our suspects will be," offered Peter.

"That's a really good idea," said Sirius, looking at Peter happily. "That'll be _easy."_

Remus snapped his fingers and looked up in dismay. "But I won't be able to help you this time," he said. "I just remembered – I've got to go home for the weekend. My mum hasn't been very well."

"No worries," James said, "There's always next month. Hope your mum gets better soon."

"Thanks, James." Remus gave him a nod and a tight smile. "I'm going to go to bed now though. Let me know how it goes in the weekend, yeah?" He rolled off the bed and padded across to his own. "G'night," he mumbled, before throwing himself face-down onto the bed. He drew the curtains with a half-hearted flick of his wand.

"He looked worried," Peter said. "His mum must be really sick."

James frowned. "Yeah. I wonder if she's-"

"A werewolf?" Sirius interjected smoothly. He turned his innocent eyes to the two dumbstruck boys before him. They managed to hold composure for a couple of seconds or so before collapsing into gales of laughter.

None of them noticed the conspicuous lack of sound behind the closed curtains of the fourth bed.

...

The mood at the next meeting, the debrief after their first full moon, was considerably deflated. James and Sirius had decided that they should just focus on one common room this time, as Remus couldn't be there, and they'd managed to convince Peter to help them stake out the Slytherins. It had been a resounding failure. Not only had _no one _entered or left the dungeons all night, but on their way back to the tower after moonset, they'd been caught by Filch. The caretaker had given them each a week's worth of detentions for being out too late, and another week on top of that when Sirius had tried to argue that they were actually out _early, _which wasn't a crime.

"Could be Saunders," Peter offered, from his dejected slump against the headboard of James' bed.

"Who?" asked James. He really had to get to learning some names.

Remus rolled his eyes. "You know. Hufflepuff. Has hair down to his-"

"Hang on," James interrupted. "A _werewolf?_ In _Hufflepuff_?"

"Well, it sounds silly when you say it like that_," _Peter grumbled.

"Yeah," agreed Sirius. "It's almost as ridiculous as a werewolf in Gryffindor."

Remus snorted.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Hey!" said James happily, knowing a good opening when he saw it. "It could be Pete!" Peter snarled, curling his fingers into claws. "Or Remus!"

Remus froze.

So did the others.

"You got me," he hissed, eyes narrowing. "Now I'm going to _eat you all!" _The group burst into laughter, and Remus took the opportunity to throw himself at Sirius. He missed, falling off the edge of the bed. "Ow. _Ow. _Why do these bloody meetings always end up with me hurting my neck?"

"Remus? A werewolf?" Sirius tried to stifle his giggles. Men did not _giggle. _They sniggered, or guffawed at the very least. "James, that's about as likely as you ever getting with that ginger, whatshername thingy- Stebbins, Evans?"

"Oi!"

"But really," said Remus, dusting off his knees, "Dumbledore wouldn't have let him in if it wasn't safe."

"True, that," agreed Sirius.

"And it was my dad's idea, so of course was brilliant," said James.

Remus shot him a sharp look. "His idea? Really?"

"Yeah." James rolled his eyes. "How d'you think those papers on it were in his desk, otherwise?"

"I reckon it'd be bad sharing a dorm, though," said Peter nervously. "Maybe he's kept in the Shrieking Shack."

"Nah, people would notice if he didn't dorm with anyone. Plus the ghosts would probably eat him."

Sirius nodded. "Remus has a point on that one," he said. "They probably keep him in the dungeons."

"Hold on..." said Remus slowly, "There's one thing we haven't thought of." The others turned to him expectantly, and he spread his hands. "It might be a _she."_

"Oh. _Oh. _That cousin of Sirius' wouldn't surprise me. The mad one, with all the hair."

"Who, Trixie?" Sirius snorted. "No, she's just naturally a bitch. Nothing had to bite her to make her that way."

James paled dramatically. "What if it turned out to be _Lily_?" he moaned. He sat there, stunned at the thought, until-

"Well, it's possible, I suppose," said Remus offhandedly. "We'd just have to watch her next month to know for sure. But... Think about it. Would it really bother you that much?"

"Well," Sirius said, "It would be a bit weird."

"No. _No," _said James firmly. "No. I wouldn't care. She'd still be Lily."

"That's true," said Remus with an odd smile. "She would."

...

"Hey, James! You seen my school trousers? I can't find mine and I think Sirius fed my spare pair to a cat."

"Dunno, Pete. Check under Remus' bed? Most stuff ends up there in the end."

James didn't really pay attention as Peter began to root around under the bed, muttering darkly to himself about trouser-thieves – he was far too busy trying to balance one of Sirius' solid-silver quill-nibs on his nose.

"Bloody _Sirius,_ I'll give him bloody _cats, _all that's down here is bloody _parchment _and-" Peter broke off. "Hey James?" he asked, "Did Remus ever find that calendar of his?"

"Don't think so," mumbled James, trying not to move his face too much, eyes crossed and fixed on his nose. "He was pretty worried about it..."

"Well," Peter said in a strange voice, "I think I found it."

"That's... nice..." James replied vaguely, trying to angle his neck right. If he could get it just... _there..._

"And I'm pretty sure I know who the werewolf is now," Peter continued with a slightly hysterical edge.

James jerked upright, poking himself in the eye with the sharp end of the nib. "_Ah," _he yelped, "Buggering _ow_. Warn a man, why don't you?"

Peter held out the calendar with trembling fingers. James took it and flipped through, the blood draining from his face. In Remus' neat, slanting script, each full moon was carefully circled and labelled. "This doesn't mean anything," he said weakly. "This could just be for the Plan..." He trailed off as Peter pointed to the inscription on the front cover. "_To our son Remus_," he read aloud, "_To keep track of your furry little problem. Stay safe. Love, Mum and Dad_." He cleared his throat. "Well, that certainly clears up a lot."

Peter promptly fainted.

James frowned. He wasn't all that shocked, now he thought about it. In fact, he was more surprised at his _lack _of surprise. It kind of made sense, when he sat down and really looked at it. How Remus had never managed to come on any of their full moon expeditions. How he always had top marks in Astronomy, even though he barely turned up to the lessons. How he was always a little shorter with everyone, a little quicker to anger on the lead up to the full moon, even more so than the rest of them.

"Ah. I see you've finally killed Peter," said Sirius as he barreled through the door, snapping James out of his stupor. "Need some help disposing of a body?"

James just handed him the calendar wordlessly.

An aristocratic eyebrow rose. Then another. "Hmm," said Sirius wonderingly. "Well. I hadn't thought of _that. _That's... That's quite..."

"Terrifying? Awful? Horrific?" mumbled Peter from his heap on the floor.

Sirius looked up at James, identical grins spreading across their faces. "..._Awesome," _they breathed together.

"That sly dog! Well, wolf, I guess," said Sirius. "He was playing us that _whole time."_

_"_Brilliant," agreed James. "Just brilliant. That whole FOWLS thing was his idea, too. I just- I can't even- _brilliant."_

Peter gave a despondent moan, thumping his head against the floor. "What are we going to do, what are we going to do, _what are we going to do_?"

James shrugged. "Treat him like normal, I guess. It's not like he's suddenly turned into a werewolf since we've known him, or anything. I mean, he's always been one. We just hadn't figured it out yet."

"I don't think I can do that," Peter whispered.

Sirius frowned.

"That's not what I meant!" hissed Peter hurriedly. "It's just- this'll take some getting used to, you know? I need some time to think it through - you can't just spring something like this on someone without giving them a bit of a warning first! I mean, what if he walks through the door _right now-"_

As if on a silent cue, Remus sauntered into the room and dumped his heavy bag on the floor next to his bed. "I'm heading off to dinner," he said, working the kinks out of his shoulder. "You lot coming? I would just _kill _for a plate of lasagna."

Peter whimpered and dived under the bed. Sirius and James still looked as if all their Christmases had come at once.

"Sure, Remus," Sirius said. "But would you mind talking to us about a little something first?"

"Of course." Remus frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said James happily, slinging an arm around Remus' shoulders and hustling him down the stairs. "You can tell us on the way to dinner."

"What is it?"

"Really, it's nothing much," Sirius reassured him. "It's just, we were wondering – Are you _really _allergic to silver?"

* * *

**13. It's Not Murder if They Can't Find the Body**

By the middle of their third year, the Marauders were well on their way to being the youngest legends in Hogwarts history. Girls smiled at Sirius in the corridors. People waved at James when they saw him between lessons. When Remus walked into a classroom, students would shift over to give him a place to sit.

But Peter- Peter was the forgotten Marauder. Because, talented at pranking though he was, he had never quite mastered the first (and _only) _rule of the group.

_Never leave evidence._

He made this mistake all too often, leaving a piece of parchment here, a spare bottle of potion there – a stain that couldn't be explained away, an alibi that didn't even come _close _to checking out. The rest of the Marauders took it in stride and joined him in the resulting detentions without complaint. Marauders stuck together, after all.

But all this came very close to changing, when Peter broke that rule _spectacularly _on the 21st of November.

It happened one weekend back in second year. Remus and Sirius were off exploring the dungeons for lost pirate gold and Peter and James had made a list. It was a thing of beauty and a joy forever, but it was also very, very dangerous. Peter promised that he'd burnt the thing, and he truly thought he had. But after class on this fateful Wednesday, it reappeared.

The worst part was, he wasn't even there when it happened. He was in the kitchen. (It was fried chicken day. What did you expect? He practically had a _duty _to be in the kitchen after class on fried chicken day.)

But Sirius wasn't. And neither was James.

And they witnessed the whole thing.

...

"Have you seen my Potions homework?" Remus yelled from under his bed, his gangly legs stuck out at strange angles as he sifted through unbalanced piles of junk. "I can't find it anywhere, and there is _no way _I'm writing out another three feet on the healing properties of troll mucus."

"No, m'sorry," said Sirius, who knew very well that the essay was shoved up the right nostril of Mendosa the Mildly Asthmatic's statue on the second floor. "You checked under Peter's bed yet?"

James shuddered. "Don't do it, Moony," he said. "No essay is worth that." He looked up from his own hastily scribbled work and shuddered again, more theatrically. "I'm pretty sure something is _growing _down there."

"I hear it shrieking in the night," offered Sirius helpfully. "Tiny, quiet screams of despair and agony."

Remus squared his shoulders and army crawled across the floor. He took a deep breath and scooted himself underneath the bed anyway. "If I don't come out alive," he said, voice muffled by the thick drapes, "Tell Pete that I'm the latest victim of his..."

"His what?" asked Sirius "His dirty sock monster? His collection of half-eaten cockroach clusters?" He sat up. "Did you know he keeps a spare jar of picklesdown there? In a special little box with a ribbon on it?"

James gagged a little. "No, I didn't know. And I'm kind of frightened that you _did_."

"You're a brave man, Moony," said Sirius solemnly. "Not even the House Elves go under that bed. Not since poor little Twinkie..."

There was an ominous silence from beneath the bed.

Sirius raised his voice. "I _said_, 'Not since poor little Twinkie...'"

More silence.

"And then _you're_ supposed to say, 'They only ever found her tea towel.' Remember?"

Remus poke his disheveled head out from under the bed, ignoring Sirius completely. Instead, he was staring at James. And he was _pissed._

"James," he asked in a deceptively calm voice. "Do you mind telling me exactly what this is? I can't quite read your writing."

"Sure," James said happily. "Give us a look, hey?"

Sirius backed away slowly. Very slowly. The kind of speed people move at when there's an angry tiger on the other side of the room that they don't want to startle. Sirius knew that some people might think he was a bit of a nutter, but he wasn't completely stupid. He could tell when the shit was about to hit the fan. Still moving oh-so-slowly, he crouched down and hid underneath his own bed, where he kept a pillow and an extra blanket for just such an emergency.

Oblivious to Sirius' imminent evacuation, James cleared his throat. "Right, right," he said. "What did you want me to read for you?"

"Just this little list," Remus said, biting off each word so politely that it _hurt. _"I'm sure it's not important."

James took the proffered parchment and smoothed it out over his knees. He cleared his throat again and began to read.

_"The Magnificent, Wondrous James Potter and Peter Pettigrew (Who's Not All That Bad, Really), Are Proud To Present..."_ He trailed off. Sirius could _hear _the colour draining out of his voice.

"Ah. _Ah. _You know, maybe it would be better for all of us if I just-"

"Oh no, James," said Remus, his eyes cold and his voice absolutely _dripping _with sarcasm. "I'd quite like to know what the rest of it says."

"_Are Proud to Present : _Moony's List O'Glares," James read miserably. _" With Witty Commentary. (As well as assorted shudders, sneers and other various gobsmacked expressions.)_

1._This-Is-A-Bad-Idea:_

Can generally be found on any given day between the hours of 7am and 10pm. Sometimes more frequently. Often accompanied by a put-upon sigh, or a muttered, "_Honestly."_

2._I'm-Not-Helping-With-This:_

Your common or garden Moony glare – one of his defaults. Only about a 2.5 on the patented "Run, Screaming Like A Little Girl Scale". Often followed by the famous _I-Can't-Believe-I-Let-You-Talk-Me-Into-This _or a _Why-Did-I-Fall-For-That-Again?_

3_.How-Is-That-Even-Possible?:_

More of an eye-twitch than an actual glare. Usually occurs when the glorious aftermath of a prank he refused to take part in is being explained.

4. _Sirius-Is-A-Nutcase:_

This isn't so much a glare as just how his face _looks. _Whenever he's studying, eating, sleeping – pretty much always. Many, many other expressions on this list are variations of this face.

5._ I-Told-You-That-Would-Happen:_

Generally given patronizingly over McGonagall's shoulder while in her office for some (totally worth it) reason or other.

6. _Why-Am-I-Not-Surprised?:_

An eye-roll of epic proportions. It's a wonder his eyes don't roll out of his face altogether. (Mind you, that would be an _utterly _brilliant prank. We should try it sometime...)

7. _Never-Again:_

Comes into play after every single little rule breaking episode, but is usually accompanied by a reluctant smile, and so can be ignored safely.

8. _You-Are-Being-A-Berk-And-I-Want-To-Hex-You:_

Only occurs when Moony is dangerously frustrated. Should be approached with _extreme _caution.

9._ I'm-Agreeing-Against-My-Better-Judgement:_

But agreeing is still agreeing, right? So this is quite a positive reaction, and should be aimed for. (Pete, grammar like that is what gets you Number 8 in the first place.) Right. Sorry.

10. _If-We-Get-Caught-I'm-Going-To-Gut-You:_

More violent than the usual Moony – can easily morph into the twitch-inducing number 11:

11. _When-We-Get-Caught-I'm-Blaming-Potter:_

Just as often Pettigrew, though, and sometimes even Black. An easy 7 on the _RSLALG _scale. If you can see the whites of his eyes, you should probably leave the room, while you still have all your limbs intact.

12._ If-We-Get-Out-Of-This-Alive-Then-I'll-Kill-You-Myself:_

Often accompanied by a homicidal glint in the left eye. Can sometimes be soothed by generous application of cocoa. Remember, bribery is always, _always _an option.

13. _Whose-Bright-Idea-Was-This?:_

Not so much a glare as a sort of visual sigh. Mr Moony is the _MASTER _of the guilt trip. Less of a guilt trip and more of a guilt-trip-on-my-sadness-and-fall-into-a-puddle-of-my-tears. _Do not let this suck you in._ Look away as soon as you can and think about marzipan or something. (Mmm. Marzipan.) Shut up, Pete. Focus. (Sorry.)

14. _I-Don't-Know-These-People:_

A kind of helpless appeal to the general public, usually accompanied with a shrug or a hand over the face. Generally happens after one of the Marauders has done something either incredibly brilliant or incredibly embarrassing. (Sometimes, it's just too hard to distinguish the two.)

15. _REALLY-Never-Again:_

The scarier, older brother of number 7. Should be approached with caution, and perhaps a ham and egg sandwich if you're in a bit of a hurry and don't have time for hard-core wheedling.

16. _Leave-Before-I-Curse-You-Into-A-Stain-On-The-Wall:_

This comes out when your reaction to 15 has failed, and it's not very nice at all. Really. _Leave._

17. _This-Is-All-Your-Fault:_

Almost as common as number 4, funnily enough. We've got no idea why.

18. _I-Am-Going-To-Kill-You-Slowly-And-Post-Your-Ashes-To-Your-Mother-In-A-Small-Envelope:_

Rare. Terrifying. (Much like a wild dragon.) And also like a wild dragon, when you see this, _RUN FOR THE HILLS._

19. _Why-Don't-I-Have-Normal-Friends?:_

Sometimes follows 14, but is often seen in the set of his shoulders when he's buried his face in his hands at the dinner table. (To be fair, James, that's usually after you've tried to shove a green bean or two in his ear without him noticing.) Fair point.

20. _When-Pigs-Fly:_

Accompanied with an expressive roll of the eyes, usually after a Marauder has expressed an idea that either a) Moony has already tried, or b) involves underwear of any kind.

21. _When-Peter-Grows-Half-A-Brain-Cell:_

The more accurate qualification of 21. (Hey! That's not nice, you speccy git!) No arguing on the manuscript, Pete. You'll make it messy.

22. _I-Would-Find-This-Funny-If-It-Wasn't-So-Stupid:_

Appears reluctantly and _extremely _fleetingly. You really have to search for it - it's sometimes disguised as 14.

23._ Are-You-Completely-Insane:_

An incredulous, horrified kind of look, filled with far too many adjectives and even an adverb or two. Kind of difficult to keep eye contact with this one.

24. _If-We-Were-In-Private-I-Would-Hit-You:_

We all hate being on the receiving end of this, mainly because once we _are _in private, he _will _hit someone.

25. _I-Will-Beat-You-To-Death-With-Your-Shinbone:_

Mr Moony's vicious side showing through again. But, much as I hate to say it... it's usually kind of justified.

26. _Oh-God-Shut-Up-Shut-Up-Shut-UP:_

An absolutely horrified expression. Hysterically funny, but _don't _let him catch you laughing at it, unless you want 25 to make a reappearance.

27. _The-Next-Time-This-Happens-Don't-Come-Crying-To-Me:_

Also known as _The-Mother-Hen. _But if we called it that, he'd probably hex our bits off, so let's move right along, shall we?

28._ Do-You-Have-A-Death-Wish?:_

An honest query. Usually pops up after somebody has provoked/pranked a student who is either bigger than any of us (most of them) or smarter than us (...okay, still most of them. But we're more _creative, _dammit!)

29. _No-Just-No:_

Also known more familiarly as the good old NJ. Often comes with a large head shake and a side of sighs. (Peter. Why is everything_ always _about food with you?) Heh heh.

30. _Why-Do-I-Even-Bother?:_

The put-upon look. The look that says, "_Honestly. _This is _ridiculous." _The look that makes you want to laugh nervously, but a word to the wise – you really, _really _shouldn't.

31._The-Sun-WIll-Burn-To-A-Cold-Dead-Cinder-Before-I-Even-Let-You-__**Try**__:_

Because, you know. That still might happen. This is the one look that no amount of pleading will change. Once he's brought this out, you might as well abandon whatever plan you're discussing altogether.

32._ I-Wish-Your-Parents-Were-Sterile:_

Witheringly angry. Usually after he's been landed in detention for something or other. This one doesn't usually come along if we've dragged him into a silly idea – it only turns up if we get him caught.

33. _Sirius-Be-Serious-__**And-no-that-is-not-a-pun**__:_

Quite rare, because that joke got old half way through the first term of the first year, and Mr Moony tries _so hard _not to bring it up.

34._ If-I-Jump-Off-The-Astronomy-Tower-It's-All-Your-Fault:_

This is his patented long-suffering martyred look. He's gotten frighteningly good at it. (But look on the bright side – he hasn't jumped yet!)

35. _This-Is-Not-Funny-Not-Even-A-Little-Bit:_

After a wildly inappropriate joke that he just _knows _he shouldn't be laughing at. (The corner of his mouth twitches, though. I don't think he realizes.)

36. _Not-Laughing-Not-Laughing-Not-Laughing:_

If the prank is good enough, this follows after 35. Makes Mr Moony look kind of like a constipated vicar. You can tell he's desperately trying to keep a straight face and set a good example, but he's laughing like a maniac on the inside. Often accompanied by suspicious coughing fits.

37. _What-Aren't-You-Telling-Me:_

A good old-fashioned suspicious glare. Nothing like it for sheer skepticality. (Is that even a word?)_ It is now._

38. _Someone's-Going-To-Have-To-Scrape-That-Off-The-Ceiling:_

The vaguely disgusted expression he has when viewing the aftermath of a particularly messy prank. (What he has against a good bit of slime, I'll never know.)

_And Remember, Eat/Burn/Bury This List After Reading."_

There was long pause after James finished.

Remus frowned. "Erm, is that it?"

James nodded, cringing away from what was sure to be a number 18 at _least. "_We counted them all."

"You _counted _them?" asked Remus incredulously. Sirius didn't hear a reply, so he peered out from the safety of his bed-bunker in time to catch James nodding again in agreement.

"Of course you did," Remus said, almost to himself. "I'm guessing you two wrote this up after that week where you nearly drove me insane?"

Another nod. "Please don't kill us," James asked, uncharacteristically subdued.

Remus made a funny noise in the back of his throat.

"I mean," James continued hastily, "Peter was supposed to _burn _it, it was only for fun, you see, and we never meant you to find it-"

Remus made another strangled noise and turned an odd shade of pink.

"Oh," said Sirius interestedly, forgetting that he was supposed to be in hiding. "_That _one wasn't on the list."

And, of course, that was the moment Peter walked into the room to find Remus and Sirius in hysterics on the floor, James sitting on his bed in some kind of shock, and a deceptively innocent scrap of parchment lying casually in the middle of everything.

He wasn't the most glamourous member of the Marauders, true, but by _God _did Peter Pettigrew have a brilliant sense of timing.

* * *

**14. There's a Fine Line Between Insanity and... Well, More Insanity**

Remus sometimes wondered if everyone had voices in their heads.

He didn't mean 'werewolfy voices', as James had once called them. Those only existed in cheap novels and bad propaganda. The only 'werewolfy' things he had were your run-of-the-mill heightened senses, a rather severe allergy to raspberry jam (not silver - that was just silly) and an unfortunate fondness for extremely rare steak. Plus the, you know, turning into a murderous Dark creature once every 28 days.

No, what Remus was wondering about were actual, distinct _voices._ He'd managed to narrow his down to about four. They generally left him alone, but when he had to decide on something, they all started to try and talk to him at once. Like today. He'd been trying to start his Transfiguration essay for almost an hour, and the they just _wouldn't shut up._

First up were the voices of reason and practicality – Justin and Eustace. They wore matching patched jumpers and boring ties and shuffled endless piles of paper – they were usually the loudest. _You should do it, _Justin whispered. It sipped at a cup of tea and glanced at Eustace, who nodded sagely. _It's homework,_they said together. _That's what you're at school for anyway, isn't it? Of course it is, Don't you want to learn? You'll regret it if you leave it too long... Come, now. Be sensible._

Then there was the voice of conscience – Remus had named this one Cecelia, after an aunt of James' with far too many cats and a penchant for cheek-pinching. _You'll get detention if you don't do it,_ it worried in a shrill tone, old lipstick folding in its wrinkles. _Or you'll get behind in class – you miss enough school anyway. Just be sensible. And tuck your shirt in._

They were the voices Remus generally listened to, the ones that kept him near the top of class and out of too much detention.

But the last voice was the one he had the most trouble with. He managed to ignore it sometimes, but it was always there, an odd buzzing that ran just under the surface of everything. It was quite quiet, mostly, but when it got restless it liked to dance around the back of his mind wearing funny shoes and a hat covered in tinkly bells.

It also sounded disconcertingly like Sirius.

_Let's go outside! _it sang, waggling the hat near Remus' cerebral cortex. _Let's go play! Throw the parchment out the window! Give someone a paper cut BETWEEN THEIR TOES! I like chocolate. Let's go to the kitchen and get some chocolate! Toes, I say! Toes!_

Going to the kitchen was probably the safest option – he should probably leave before the Sirius-voice could talk him into anything stupid.

He was out the door and halfway down the corridor in three seconds flat.

...

Remus was alone in the kitchen. He was warm and happily drowsy, and he'd almost fallen asleep in his third bowl of chocolate pudding when the door burst open and James jumped on him.

"Arg!" he yelped, jolted awake only to drown in pudding. "Gack! Fluggle!"

"Hey Moony," James said happily. "You've got a bit of chocolate, just... here." He sort of gestured helplessly at Remus' entire face.

"Thanks, James," Remus said dryly, mopping at his face with a sleeve, "I hadn't noticed."

James flopped down onto the bench beside Remus, grabbed his spoon and started to eat.

"Hey, get your own!"

James shrugged and took another bite. "Cream of Moony's face," he said through a mouthful of pudding. "Not that bad, actually."

"I'll cream _your _face," Remus muttered to himself, still trying to get the food out of his eyelashes.

James chattered on obliviously. "It's your own fault anyway, you daft git," he said, taking another smug spoonful. "All the house elves are out of the kitchen doing house elf-ly things this time of night, and I don't know where the all the good stuff is. So I have to eat yours. Hard job, but someone's got to do it."

"Why am I even here?" Remus wondered aloud. He buried his face in his hands and wished for more pudding.

"Dunno. _I'm _here because McKinnon said I ought to try out for the Quidditch team next year, and I wanted a celebratory party. Face-pudding will do though, since its an emergency."

Remus frowned. "Why didn't you try out this year?"

"Because they already had a full team," James said, licking at the pudding spoon. "Didn't bother with try-outs. But all the Chasers are seventh years, so I've got a shot next year. Get it? A _shot? _At being a _Chaser?_."

"Oh, yes. Ha ha," said Remus dutifully, trying to get the rapidly congealing pudding out of his ears.

James scraped the last of his dessert together into one massive spoonful, ate it and sprang to his feet, grabbing Remus on the way up. "Come on," he said, "Let's go tell Sirius!"

And he danced out the door, dragging a very chocolate-splattered Remus behind him.

...

The dormitory was strangely quiet. Peter was doing homework for once, James was lying flat on his back in a state of Quidditch induced bliss, and judging by the shut curtains, Sirius was already asleep.

Remus braced himself. Now was as good a time as any.

"Hey, James?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you ever, you know, hear voices?"

"Sure, all the time. I'm hearing yours right now, aren't I?"

Remus shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. "No. I mean like, _voices._ In your head."

James sat up and gave him a funny look. "Can't say that I do," he said slowly. "I mean, whenever I'm about to do something brilliant, I always hear my mum nagging at me not to, but I think that's because she charmed my tie to tell me off when I'm at school."

"Oh, of course. Just wondering," Remus said hastily with a weak smile.

A muffled voice echoed from behind the closed curtains of Sirius' bed. "Don't worry about it," he advised. "It's perfectly normal."

"Really?"

"_Moo ha ha ha. _Oh, er, I mean, yes! Really. I hear them all the time." Snores that were far too loud to be real cut off any chance of another reply.

Strangely enough, Remus didn't feel all that reassured.

"Just ignore him," said Peter, from where he was curled up at the foot of his bed. "I do. And d'you have any idea who the last High King of Slovakia was? This essay's due tomorrow."

_Urgh the Un-manly? Count Pastabakenstein? Baron von Wolvershnitzel? _asked the Sirius-voice helpfully.

"No, I don't, sorry."

"S'alright. And you're probably not insane," Peter added with a happy little grin, "or my Mum wouldn't let me be friends with you."

Remus ignored the little voice (Eustace) whispering that if Peter's mum didn't like the voices, she'd probably have a fit if she found out about his furry little problem.

James clapped him on the shoulder in a brotherly manner, almost knocking him out of his daze and into the night stand. "Don't worry until they start telling you to burn things," he said cheerily. "Thats when we bring in the Healers, okay?"

_Burn it all! _cackled the Sirius-voice. _Dance in the ashes!_

Remus groaned and buried his face in his pudding-sticky hands for the second time that night.

_Chin up, dear! You're not insane_. Cecelia said kindly. _And knot your tie properly. You look scruffy._

* * *

**15. Glorious Ideas That Aren't All That Glorious After All**

"No, James. Don't be stupid."

"But-"

"_Think, _for once in your life!"

James blinked. "Wow. I never thought I'd see the day. Sirius is actually being serious-"

"-And if you turn that into a joke, I will _step on you."_

"Sorry, sorry." James shouldered his broom and fell in step with Sirius. The cold morning air stung his eyes, and he remembered that he'd left his glasses back in the dormitory. It was okay, though - you didn't really need to see while flying anyway, unless you were playing a game.

"Moony's only coming out to watch," Sirius said warningly. "And it took me _hours _of persuading. So if you try and get him on a broom-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what he's like." James looked down his nose and raised an eyebrow in what was actually quite a fair imitation of his friend. "_Honestly_, you two," he said, mimicking Remus' languidly amused tone. "_Why _on _Earth _would you _fly_? If people were meant to _fly,_ we'd all be-"

"_Bird Animagi,_" chorused Sirius along with him. "Heard it once, heard it a hundred times." He'd once tried to include Remus in his passion for flying, but the look he got in return was something between aghast and absolutely_ horrified, _so he hadn't tried since. (Every time Quidditch came up in conversation, Remus kind of twitched and tried to change the subject.)

"You don't think he'll ever change his mind?" James asked.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "You know our Moony, he said. "Once he's decided on something, _no one _is going to convince him otherwise.

James just shrugged, not believing that anyone could voluntarily live without a broom. Ever since the Gryffindor team (_without _James on it) had lost narrowly to Slytherin in the first game of the year, his obsession with flying had started to border on the psychotic. Whenever he had a spare moment, he'd be out running drills, or just looping round the pitch for hours at a time. Recently, he'd be trying to convince the notoriously acrophobic Remus Lupin to just get on a broom already, because he had the perfect build for a keeper, and really, it's wasn't physically_ possible _for him to be any worse than Cattermole. James frowned. It was totally irrational, Remus' thing about flying. After all, James had fallen off his broom loads of times, and he hardly ever needed to stay in the Hospital Wing for longer than a week. Remus hadn't seemed all that reassured when James tried to explain this to him - he actually went rather pale and walked off very fast in the other direction, muttering about nutters and birds and maybe hexing said nutters _into _birds so that they would shut up and let him read for once.

He obviously just didn't realise how brilliant flying really was.

And with that last thought, James was struck with a glorious idea. If Moony wouldn't go to the broom… James would just have to take the broom to Moony. He smothered a cackle of glee - he was getting too old and mature for those. He was a _third year. _He had to be _responsible. _(James had to smother another cackle at the thought of himself _ever _becoming the dreaded r-word.) Sirius gave him a bit of a weird look, James ignored him and smiled. "Look, Sirius. You go up now, yeah? I'll meet you by the hoops after I've finished with Moony."

Sirius frowned warningly. _"James."_

"Don't worry, mate," said James, waving his broom placatingly and lying though his teeth. "I only want to talk to him."

Sirius clapped James on the shoulder as they reached the pitch, and he pointed over at Remus. He was sitting against the bottom of the Gryffindor stands, eyeing his approaching friends dubiously. "He's over there," Sirius said. "And it's not me who should be worrying. Don't you remember what happened last time you tried to trick Moony into doing something for his own good?" He mounted his broom and kicked off, leaving behind a James Potter who was far less sure of himself than he had been fifteen seconds ago.

Mind you, "Far less sure of himself," in Potter-speak, meant "I am just awesome and amazing and all my ideas are utterly brilliant." James just had to drown out the undertone that whispered _"...but do you really want to have feathers growing out of your ears for a week?"_

"Oi, Moony! Got something to show you!" James hollered across the pitch, breaking into a slow jog.

Remus stood to meet him, brushing damp grass cuttings off his robes. "What's got you in such a rush?" he asked.

James shrugged. "Sirius is waiting, and I just wanted a quick word."

"Really, James. A _word."_

James didn't understand how it was possible to fit so much mistrust into just four short words and a quirked eyebrow. "Look," he said, "I just think you should give it a go before you give up on flying altogether, all right? And then I'll leave you alone about it for good." He could see the gears spinning behind Remus' eyes.

"For good?" Remus asked. "Really?"

James just held out his broom.

Remus eyed it dubiously, as if it was going to bite him or something. The look on his face said he'd snap it if it even _tried_. "I don't think-"

"It's fine," James interrupted happily. "You just hop on! You've seen me and Sirius do it a hundred times. Blimey, we even got Peter to try it that one time, remember?"

Remus _did _remember, and he turned a little green. James inwardly winced. Maybe he shouldn't have brought that up. There was a reason it had never been repeated.

The broom hovered at waist height, vibrating ominously. Remus hadn't seen anything that terrifying in years. "If we were meant to fly, we'd all be-"

"Bird Animagi," James said along with him in a sing-song tone, ignoring Remus' disconcerted blink of surprise. "I know, I know." He gave Remus a slightly manic grin. "But how do _you _know that we're not? Eh? _Eh?"_

"That's not exactly the...point," he muttered, backing away slowly. "This is really not a good idea."

His friend just smiled and clapped him on the back. "You'll love it." He pointed at a black dot spiraling madly against the sky. "Look at Sirius," he said. "Doesn't it look like he's having fun?"

A wild, howling laugh echoed across the pitch, before it was whipped away by the wind.

Remus felt faintly ill. "I sometimes get motion sick watching the portraits move," he said. "The moving staircases are bad enough! And don't get me started on the Astronomy tower..." James rolled his eyes and pushed Remus towards the broom. "It's, you know, really high," Remus said weakly.

"You'll love it," James repeated firmly. Before Remus could protest any more, he was unceremoniously shoved onto the broom. As soon as his hands grasped the handle (purely out of self-defense), it shot off into the sky. "And don't come back down until you're having fun!" yelled James, over the remaining echoes of Remus' shriek of terror. He leant back triumphantly, hands on his hips, and he squinted into the sun. Even though he'd forgotten his glasses, he could still see Moony zig-zagging back and forth across the sky. It looked like he was having a good time - after all, the broom was going _really fast. _The dot that was Sirius looped out in a wide arc before falling in beside Remus, and the two shot off across the pitch.

"That went well," James said to himself, and he turned on his heel and started back up to the castle. Maybe he could get some more of that awesome omelettey thing the house elves had made for breakfast. Or maybe Peter was finally out of bed, and they could go and annoy some Hufflepuffs. Either way, the day was looking _good_.

...

From the moment James ran over to him with a glint in his eye and a broom in his hand, Remus started to think that his morning wasn't going to end as well as he'd hoped when he let Sirius talk him into coming down to the pitch. And when James tried yet again to get him on the bloody Broom o' Doom (quite a catchy name, he thought privately), his bad feeling worsened. But when he accidentally let his hands close against the smooth wood of the handle, he _knew _that everything was going to end horribly, and probably with a broken bone or four.

"JAMES YOU BLOODY FUCKING BASTARD GET ME DOOOOOWN!"

The broom looped through the sky, Remus' hands too busy holding on with an absolute _death grip_ to bother about such trivial things as steering. _It's just like a bicycle, _he thought to himself desperately, trying to calm his exploding heart and suck some air into his lungs. _You're_ good_ at bicycles. This is just a bike with… with a really stupid steering system and really stupid handlebars and it's STUPIDLY HIGH IN THE AIR. Right. You can_ do _this. _Remus took a deep breath and let it out shakily. _Just like riding a bike. _He tilted the handle to the left a little, experimentally, and swallowed a strangled yelp as the broom _threw _itself through the air and bolted down the pitch.

"Jesus, James!" he heard Sirius yell. "You're flying like a maniac! Remember your bloody glasses next time!"

"I'm. Not. JAMES!" Remus managed to grit out from between tightly clenched teeth. "Stop the ride, _I want to get off!"_

Sirius did such a big double take he almost fell off his broom. Luckily, Remus was too busy focusing on where to put his awkwardly dangling feet to see it, so he didn't panic any more than he already was. "_Remus?" _he gasped. "What the bloody _fuck_?"

"James sort of- I mean… I don't really know what happened!" Remus shouted across the thrumming of the wind in his ears. "He sort of shoved it at me, and I grabbed it, and the damn thing _TOOK OFF!"_

"Right," Sirius said, and then, "Right. Here's what we're going to do. Just… pull up on the handle a bit, okay? Gently. Slow it down some." He was speaking very carefully, and the steady words were obviously having a calming effect on Remus.

"Pull up on it," he muttered to himself. "Right. I can do that." He jerked up hard on the handle, pulling the broom vertical. He had time for a heartfelt murmur of "_Shit," _before he slipped off over the bristles and dropped like a stone.

Remus Lupin was good at many things. Flying was not one of them.

_Falling _apparently was.

Sirius didn't even stop to think. He kicked down and flew straight at the ground, abandoning James' beloved broom to the skies, and fervently hoping it took the opportunity to fly off into the Whomping Willow and smash itself to tiny, tiny pieces. Remus wasn't screaming, but he kept up a constant, earsplitting litany of filthy curses, and Sirius could easily pinpoint where he was without having to rely on his streaming eyes. He managed to get in underneath his friend's plummeting body about fifteen feet from the ground. "Try and grab on!" he yelled.

"I'm going to die!" Remus screamed back. He lunged for Sirius' robes and fell past anyway, with all the coordination of a crippled walrus. He did manage to hook a knee over the broom handle on the way down, though, which wrenched the broom _right _out of alignment. Hanging from it upside down like a bat didn't exactly do much for the broom's balance, but Sirius managed to control it enough to at least slow it down before they hit the ground with a nasty thud.

"_Merlin,_ fuck, sorry Moony-"

"Shit, Sirius, your _elbow-"_

"-can you just-"

"-your _knee-"_

"-just, if you just-"

"How is it even possible for you to have so many_ bony bits!"_

Sirus spat out a bit of Remus' hair and tried to figure out which limbs were his. "I am going to _murder _James Potter."

"That utter wanker," Remus agreed vehemently. "Look, if I could- that's my- ow, _ow! _My _shoulder!" _He managed to twist out from under Sirius. "_Shit _you're heavy."

Sirius was too busy trying to breathe to come up with a proper response.

"Really. Lay off the Cauldron Cakes, you big lump."

"Oi," Sirius objected. "I'll have you know that my gorgeous body needs no jealous criticism, thank you very much."

Remus rolled onto his front and dug his fingers into the ground. "I am _never _leaving you again," he said decisively, his voice muffled by the damp grass.

"Fuck, Moony," Sirius said in a wondering voice. "My hands are bloody _shaking."_

"Join the club," muttered Remus into the ground. "Never again. _Never."_

Sirius sat upright suddenly. _"_I thought you were going to _die." _He looked down at his still shaking hands, horrified. There was an awful pricking behind his eyes at the thought. He cleared his throat hastily. "You can't die on me yet, you know," he said, trying for a casual tone and failing miserably. "I haven't even gotten you _drunk _yet."

Remus gave him an incredulous look before remembering that this was _Sirius _he was talking to, and then it made perfect sense. Before he could reply, though, he was interrupted by a shout from over by the castle.

"Hey Moony! Sirius! What are you doing down?" Peter waved as he hurried towards them. "James said you'd gone flying."

"Where is he?" asked Sirius briskly, getting to his feet. He pulled Remus up after him, gripping onto his dirt-encrusted fingers a little harder than was strictly necessary. "Don't you _ever _do that to me again," he hissed, giving his friend a little shake.

Remus started to roll up his sleeves, streaking them with dirt and for once not caring in the _slightest. _"Don't worry, there won't be any more near-death experiences for me," he said. His eyes narrowed. "_James, _though…"

"James," said Sirius, shouldering his broom, "Has about half an hour left to live." He started up to the castle with a grim Remus at his side, leaving Peter to wonder why James' broom was still drifting high in the winter air.


	4. Fourth Year

**16. Rumors Are Almost as Dangerous as Mildly Illegal Explosives**

Fabian Prewett was having a Bad Day. Not a bad day. A _Bad Day_.

The kind of day where the owl that brings you the paper craps on your toast.

The kind of day where Filch gives you a month of pre-emptive detention for 'walking funny'.

The kind of day where you find the girl you kind of fancy (formerly known as Amelia Hill, now affectionately referred to as 'Slagzilla') snogging a Hufflepuff. In a _broom closet._

Gideon, on the other hand, was having quite a lot of fun. Since his brother was out of pranking action for the moment, he'd spent the past day spreading rumors, most of which had stuck quite nicely. As of a quarter to four that afternoon, half the Prefects were murmuring about the Boggart in the Owlery, most of the staff were searching for an escaped banshee on the fourth floor, and every single student in first and second year was convinced that Remus Lupin was dead.

...

"_I heard that his sick Mum is actually a vampire, and when he last went to visit, she _killed_ him. Killed him 'till he _died!_"_

"I_ heard he got eaten by a rogue hippogriff!"_

"_No, no, that's all wrong. Peter Derby said that Allison Wright told him that Lupin fell off the Astronomy Tower."_

"_Allison Wright wouldn't know the Astronomy Tower if it fell on _her_ in the middle of dinner. What _really_ happened is he drowned in the Great Lake!"_

"_I thought he got eaten by the Giant Squid?"_

"_I thought he got eaten by that banshee?"_

_"I thought he had herpes?"_

_..._

"What's herpes?" asked Peter. He was scrunched up under a bed in the Hospital Wing, sandwiched between Sirius and James.

"Not what's killed Moony," replied Sirius.

Peter nodded wisely. "Ah," he said, also wisely. He then attempted to wisely gaze at the floor, but ended up looking like he needed to go to the bathroom rather badly.

"Relax, Pete. Remus isn't dead," James whispered, kindly. "We're hiding under his bed, remember?"

The night before had been a particularly nasty full moon, and though Remus hadn't actually woken up yet, his friends didn't really want to leave him alone. But as they weren't technically supposed to know about his 'condition', they had no legitimate excuse for being there with him.

Hence the hiding.

It was kind of weird, this time – while no one usually came to the Hospital Wing to look for Remus, it seemed as if half the school had been through today, asking for him specifically. Because his bed was screened off from the rest of the Hospital Wing by a very realistic illusion of a wall, he hadn't been found yet. As the day progressed, the rumors had become wilder and wilder. (James was writing the best ones on his arm with a Self-Inking quill, for future reference.)

Though they did this pretty much every month, it still hadn't gotten any easier. Sirius had a wicked cramp in his left calf, Peter had somehow gotten biscuit crumbs in his trousers, and James' hair kept getting painfully caught in the bedsprings.

Sirius thought to himself that there _had _to be another way that they could be there for Remus, one which didn't involve Peter elbowing him the ribs every two minutes.

The tail-end of James and Peter's conversation distracted him, and he tucked the idea away for later.

"Right, right. I know he's not dead. It's just everyone keeps saying-"

"That he is?" interrupted Sirius. "I know. It's weird, isn't it?"

James grinned. "Whoever started it's done a bloody good job," he said. "I've heard at _least _three people wondering when the funeral was."

"And did you hear those girls in here before?" asked Sirius.

"Who? The Slytherins?"

"No, Pete, those Hufflepuffs in our year."

"Nah, must have missed it… What did they say?"

Sirius simpered up at Peter. "_I _heard Dumbledore killed him because he was an alien," he giggled, in a high-pitched and surprisingly accurate imitation of Felicity Marshall.

"Who, _Lupin_?" said James, wide eyed, trying for the breathy tones of Margaret Scott and failing painfully. "Well, I don't think he's an alien, but he_ is_ waterproof."

"Really?" Sirius asked, one hand over his mouth.

"Really. I heard it straight from his friend, the short one. Peterson, Patterson. Pettigrew? Something like that."

"She most certainly did _not_!" yelped Peter.

"Shut up, Pete! You made James break character!"

"I'll definitely break _something _if you don't get your elbow out of my-"

The curtains whipped back from the bed frame.

James froze.

"OUT!"

"Why, my _darling_ Madame Pomfrey," said James, batting his eyes, "how perfectly _lovely_ to see you!"

The frazzled witch glared at the pile of boys huddled under the bed. Peter shifted awkwardly. A stray biscuit crumb had wormed its way into the collar of his shirt, and the itching was unbearable. Madame Pomfrey's burning gaze zeroed in on him, and he quailed, trying to hide his rather plump body behind James very thin knees.

"I wish I could say the same," she hissed at them. "Out! This is the HOSPITAL WING. In the Hospital Wing, you _do not hide under beds! _It's disruptive and _unhygienic!"_

Sirius rolled out from under the bed and to his feet in one graceful movement, offering a hand to James. James ignored it and staggered to his feet with the drunken wobble of someone who has lost all feeling in his feet.

"Ow. Owowow, _ow._ Bugger." He lurched to the side, crashing into Peter, who fell onto the bed with a loud yelp.

The huddled figure under the covers shot upright in the bed, a wild expression on his pale face. "I'm awake, I'm awake!" he yelled. "Don't jump on me! For the love of God, _don't jump on me!_"

"Toodle-pip, Poppy! Thanks for looking after our Moony!"

James saluted the healer, who seemed to be on the verge of exploding in rage, and sprinted for the staircase. Peter scuttled after him, skidding on the slippery stone.

Sirius bent low in a sweeping bow. "Terribly sorry for the antics of my housemates," he said, gallantly. "I do what I can to control them, but I fear the situation may be hopeless!" He bit a knuckle melodramatically and pretended to look off into the middle distance.

Madame Pomfrey began to look slightly mollified. "Well, that's fine dear-"

Sirius took this as his cue to press a sloppy kiss to the back of her hand, fling Remus over his shoulder and bolt from the room.

"_Sirius Black! Bring my patient back here RIGHT NOW!"_

...

James and Sirius half-carried Remus back to the common room, each with one arm slung around their shoulders. They staggered up the stairs to their dormitory, narrowly avoiding knocking Remus' head against the door frame. They could have done with an extra hand, but Peter was busy doing damage control. It wasn't really working.

"_But his friend, Patrick or Peter or something, he said Lupin was fine! Alive and fine!"_

"_Honestly, you can't believe anything that guy says. Of course he's not actually alive. I heard from Alice Finch that he's been a zombie since last Wednesday._

"_Serious?"_

"_As a heart attack."_

"_Well, we'll be fine then. Gideon Prewett told me that Dumbledore's already survived one zombie apocalypse. He'll have no trouble taking care of Lupin."_

...

Up in the dormitories, Remus was sprawled over his bedspread, too tired to actually get in. His hair was starting to grow a bit too long, and a sticky-out bit kept tickling his ear.

"James?" he asked, thoughtfully.

"Yeah, Moony?"

He paused, and started to speak in a low, measured tone. "If I am ever eaten by the giant squid, or my mother, or that banshee on the fourth floor, I just want you to know that…"

"That I should avenge your mangled remains by forsooth wreaking mortal afflictions upon your foul murderers?" interrupted James, equally solemn.

"Er, no. You should cremate me."

James blinked.

"Sorry. What?"

"Because," Remus continued earnestly, "I _really_ don't want to come back as a zombie."

"_What?"_

"It would break my heart if I tried to eat your brains and you had to kick me in the face."

* * *

**17. Defenestration Stations**

_Noun. _Defenestration: The action of throwing someone or something out of a window.

(_vb. form - to defenestrate)_

ORIGIN early 17th cent, from modern Latin _**defenestration**_, from _**de- 'down from' **_+ Latin _**fenestra 'window.'**_

...

"No."

"But-"

"_No!"_

James rolled his eyes and chose to ignore Remus' This-Is-A-Bad-Idea-Glare. (James and Peter had once spent a very productive weekend cataloguing each and every one of Remus' glares. There were about thirty eight, and they ranged from the infamous I'm-Not-Helping-With-This-Frown to the Someone's-Going-To-Have-To-Scrape-That-Off-The-Ceiling-Glower and the scarily common Sirius-Is-A-Nutcase-Scowl.)

"Come on, Moony, just-"

"I_ refuse." _Remus very pointedly turned the page of his book and didn't look up at James' puppy-dog eyes. He'd almost managed to lose himself in the familiar words when James cleared his throat.

"Ahem."

Remus pretended not to hear, and turned another page.

"_Ahem."_

..._Muggle influence was very strong during this incident, and it is almost certain that they are entirely responsible for the invention of paisley jodhpurs..._

"James. Stop hexing my book."

"Sorry," said James, not sounding very sorry at all. "What if-"

Remus sighed and tapped his book with his wand, erasing the disturbing yellow trousers from the page. "It's not happening," he told James firmly. "I won't do it."

"But-"

"Not. Happening."

"But-"

"Ever."

James threw himself down on the bed, artfully managing to bounce the book right out of Remus' hands. "Just a little won't hurt!" he pleaded.

Remus stood up and folded his arms. He glared at James - the very rare You-Are-Being-A-Berk-And-I-Want-To-Hex-You-Scowl.

"James Potter. No matter how much you bribe me, blackmail me or beg me, I will _not _help you steal a love potion."

"Why not?"

Remus blinked, surprised. "Well, for one, its bloody _illegal_!"

"That's never stopped you before..." said James, giving him a sly grin.

Remus snorted. "It has, actually- last I checked, my name wasn't Sirius Black-"

"I'll buy you a month's supply of chocolate! A _whole _month."

"Huh. If you think I'm that easy-"

James smirked in triumph. He hadn't missed the flicker of interest in Remus' narrowed eyes. He pushed his advantage before his friend could talk himself out of it. "_All you can eat..." _he breathed.

Remus wavered, but attempted to stick to his morals. "Honestly," he protested, "Who do you think-"

"Plus stockpiling rights."

There was a silence. Remus' eye twitched. James swallowed a snicker, and affected such a good expression of innocence, he almost fooled himself.

"Two months," Remus said quietly, "and you've got yourself a deal."

"Moony! You're _brilliant!_"

The taller boy rubbed a thin hand over his eyes. "Just… don't tell me what you need it for," he asked. "Please? The less I know, the better."

James bounded down the stairs happily. "You won't regret this!" he yelled, as the door swung shut behind him.

Flopping back down onto his bed, book forgotten, Remus buried his face in a pillow. "I already do," he mumbled.

_**_Two weeks later_**_

"_James Potter! Get your arse over here NOW!"_

Lily was on the warpath. It was Valentine's Day, and James had decided that it was high time for a nice big romantic gesture. (While Christmas had passed without a hitch, New Year's had been an utter disaster. James had finally deployed the plan Sirius had given him, with the singing flowerpots. The one that had gotten wildly out of control, ending with everything from the cutlery to the toilets harmonizing to the same awful love songs.)

Unfortunately, this plan had also gone horribly pear-shaped. After spending the whole day drenched in pink champagne, Lily had finally snapped. The flowers following her around had been unceremoniously exploded, all the chocolates had been given to Remus (who was perched on an upturned table in the corner, and had just finished eating the last one) and she had now turned her attention to _Potter._

James cautiously poked his head out from behind an armchair, ducking back down as a worryingly bright blue burst of light shot at his head. It missed and hit the armchair, which immediately began to ooze.

"Didn't you like the poem I wrote for you?" he yelled, army-crawling across the common room floor for the safety of a more solid couch.

Lily pretended to consider. "Well, it was kind of sweet, actually."

"Really?" James' tousled head popped up from behind his barricade, and Lily took the opportunity to fire another curse at him.

"No!" she snapped. "And can you stop the _goddamn champagne_?"

"Come on, Lilyflower," he said hastily, safe behind his couch. "Nothing says 'I love you' like pink champagne!"

"Nothing says 'I love you' like _a curse in the face!"_

As James' nose began to swell rapidly and flush an alarming shade of orange, he grinned happily. "You really love me? Lily! The wedding's next Thursday!"

Lily sighed. "You know what? I give up. Remus, come with me to the library. I need to find some new hexes." With a last venomous glare in James' direction, she dragged an oddly resistant Remus across the room and out the portrait hole, which slammed shut with a nasty crash.

Sirius poked his head out from under one of the only remaining armchairs. He surveyed the ruined common room with something close to awe. "Maybe you better leave her alone, mate," he said. "It's never going to work."

James felt at his nose gingerly. "She does love me," he said in a stubborn (yet slightly nasal) tone. "She just doesn't know it yet."

...

Lily stormed down the corridor, still dragging Remus behind her by his wrist. She tuned out the indignant voice of the Fat Lady, who _really _didn't like to be slammed.

"God, that _Potter," _she hissed. "I can't _believe_ you're friends with him. He's such a jerk, all the time! I wish he'd leave me alone..."

"So do I," said Remus, abruptly. "Wish he'd leave you alone, I mean."

"Yes! Thank you! His head's so far up his arse he can't even see that I honestly can't stand him-"

Remus twisted his wrist out of Lily's grip and stopped in the middle of the corridor. "Don't speak about him like that!" he pleaded. "He's wonderful!"

Lily was still walking, ranting to herself. "Exactly!" she yelled over her shoulder. Then Remus' actual words hit her. She stopped dead. "Wait. What?"

"Why are you so _mean _to him all the time?" he sighed, a glazed and slightly stupid expression on his face.

Lily pinched her arm. "What did you just say? I don't think I quite heard it..."

Remus sighed, fluttering his eyelashes with surprising skill. "He's perfect! His hair, his eyes, God, and his _arse-"_

Lily pinched again, harder. "Uh, Remus? Is there something you wanted to tell me? You know, it _is_ okay to be, um, er. Er. Gay." She put a tentative hand on his arm.

Remus didn't even notice. "And he's so good at Quidditch!" he gushed happily. "Amazing! Fantastic! I could watch him all day..." He trailed off with another love-sick sigh.

Lily frowned. Something wasn't quite right. "But you hate Quidditch," she said, slowly. "You always have."

Remus gave a scandalized gasp. "No I don't! Who told you that? I'll kill them!" He actually started to roll up his sleeves, before Lily gripped his arm again, more firmly this time.

"Remus?" she asked, "Are you quite alright?"

"Oh yes," replied Remus airily. "I'm fine. More than fine. Maaaaarvellous, in fact!" He beamed at her, the giddy expression so totally out of place on him that it almost looked as if he'd been…

"-_drugged," _breathed Lily, finishing her thought aloud. "Oh God. Oh, _God."_

"Who? Is he a friend of James'?"

Lily shook her head in disbelief. "You ate that chocolate Potter gave me, didn't you? All of it?"

"Yeah," Remus smiled. "It was good! He's so thoughtful, giving you chocolate. But why'd he give it to you?" He began to frown. "Why not _me? _Why doesn't he give _me _chocolate?"

"Remus," Lily began, "I think we'd better go and see Professor Slughorn-"

"Nah. I want to go and see James!" He started to walk purposefully back to the common room, Lily trailing ineffectively in his wake.

"Wait!" she called after him. "It's just that Pot- that _James_, er, mentioned earlier how much he, ah, cared for you and he... he, um left you a present! In Professor Slughorn's office! _So that's where we should go!" _Quite proud of her own quick thinking, Lily began to drag her friend down to the dungeons.

"What is it?" he asked eagerly, no longer fighting to get back to the common room.

"I'm not sure. He said it was private. Let's _go!"_

...

"Come in!"

Lily carefully pushed open the door, still gripping Remus tightly by the wrist. Whatever love potion he'd been given had started to strengthen with time, and Remus was all but bouncing off the walls with impatience.

"Er, Professor-"

"Lily!" Professor Slughorn, a jovial man who bore an eerie resemblance to a bowling pin, was seated at his desk. A flagon of pumpkin juice balanced on his purple-robed belly, wobbling slightly each time he breathed in. He gave Remus a cursory, faintly puzzled glance before beaming at Lily. "How wonderful to see you," he said. "And what brings you here to visit me today?"

"There's been a bit of an accident..."

"Ah." He gave Remus another, more appraising look and quirked an eyebrow at Lily, who nodded and mouthed _James Potter. _The Professor's eyes widened.

"Lily, Mr Lupin. Please, have a seat. I'll be with you both shortly." He hurried from the room, juice flagon still perched merrily on his stomach.

Lily settled herself on a green couch that had been pushed up against the wall of the office, and pulled a jittery Remus down with her.

"Where's my present?" he hissed. "Where's _James_? Where is he?"

Before Lily could make up another lie, Professor Slughorn barreled back into the room.

Remus shot to his feet, almost tipping Lily out of her seat. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH JAMES!" he bellowed, shaking with anger.

"Mr. Potter?" asked the professor smoothly, guiding Remus back to the couch and giving him a gentle push back down. "I've sent for him, don't you worry. He'll be here in a minute." He waddled over to his desk and began rooting through the drawers, sifting through hundreds of tiny glass vials. "Got an antidote in here somewhere," he muttered.

Remus leant back against the couch, his eyes closed. "What rhymes with Potter?" he whispered to Lily. "I'm not that good at poetry."

"How about 'selfish wanker'?"

"Mm, not quite," he replied, the sarcasm going over his head by a good foot and a half.

A staccato knock on the door jerked Lily out of her shock (Remus hadn't understood a joke. _Remus.) _and a tall boy with a faintly orange nose and far too much hair burst into the room.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" James panted. He'd obviously run the whole way from the common room.

Professor Slughorn straightened from his desk, a tiny pink bottle clutched in one pudgy hand. "Yes, Mr. Potter." he said. "We seem to have a bit of a problem with Mr Lupin, over here. He's somehow managed to ingest a love potion."

James' face slackened in abject horror. "_Remus." _he said, ignoring Lily's frantic, yet oh-so-subtle _shutupshutupshutup _signals.

Remus' oddly glazed eyes snapped open. "James!"

"Remus, _no_!" Lily grabbed for him, but her fingers slipped on the loose fabric of his robe. Remus launched himself off the couch and across the room, tackling James to the ground.

"Oi! Moony, gerroff!"

Lily grabbed Remus around the waist and tried to pull him off the other boy. "Potter," she gasped, "when we get out of this, I am going to _kill _you."

James paled, barely managing to hold a flailing Remus' face away from his own. "Don't worry about that," he said miserably. "Remus'll get there first."

Lily fished her wand out of her pocket. "_Incarcerous," _she gasped. Thick ropes snaked from the tip of her wand and wound around Remus. He flopped and twisted around on the floor, wriggling like a dying fish.

"Look, Moony," James said weakly, dusting off his robes, "How about we-"

"YOU CAN'T DENY OUR LOVE!" Remus shrieked, still writhing.

Professor Slughorn wisely took the opportunity to pour the potion into his mouth.

Remus stilled.

James sighed in relief, and then flinched as the other boy's body jerked flat as a board and began to twitch.

"I don't think that's what's meant to happen," he whispered to Lily, who nodded worriedly.

"SCARAMOUCHE, SCARAMOUCHE, WILL YOU DO THE FANDANGO?" howled Remus.

"Not that one, obviously," Professor Slughorn said. "Let me see... Ah, here we go." He unearthed a shriveled blue bean from the depths of his desk and shoved it straight up Remus' right nostril.

Lily released him with a flick of her wand, and he collapsed against the wall, coughing and spluttering.

"Remus?" said James, carefully, poised to run.

"James," he croaked from the floor. "Why does my mouth taste like Peter's socks smell? And why is there a _bean_ in my nose?"

"Er... Well... D'you remember that deal I talked you into about two weeks ago?"

Remus nodded warily.

"And d'you remember those chocolates I gave Lily?"

Another nod.

"The ones you _ate?"_

Remus' eyes widened, almost comically. "Oh no."

Lily fought a slightly wicked smile. "Well, actually-"

"Oh no."

"Oh _yes."_

Remus groaned, and dropped his head onto his knees.

Lily gave Professor Slughorn a quick grin and pulled Remus to his feet. "It was lovely to see you, Sir," she said, "but we really must be going."

"Of course, my dear!" he beamed. "I'll see you in class. Mr. Lupin, always a pleasure. Mr Potter-" the professor broke off, frowning. "Detention. Every Thursday evening for this month and the next should do the trick, I think."

James could do little more than gape as Lily gave one last cheery wave and dragged him and Remus from the room.

In the corridor outside, Remus took some deep breaths, and when his hands finally stopped shaking, he began to look daggers at James.

He gulped. Remus had brought out the big guns. The rarely used and utterly terrifying I-Am-Going-To-Kill-You-Slowly-And-Post-Your-Ashes-To-Your-Mother-In-A-Small-Envelope-Glare.

"You are so dead," Remus said, enunciating each word very carefully.

"No I'm not!" James said desperately. "I'm your friend!"

"I am going to beat you unconscious with your own broom," Remus continued in the same deadly calm voice, "and then I'll leave your unprotected body in front of the Slytherin common room. On a _Saturday."_

James winced. "I'm so sorry! I'll do anything to make it up to you! Anything. _Anything."_

Lily rolled her eyes. "Potter, do you have no sense of self respect?"

James shook his head wildly. "None! Unless you want me to, Remus?" He smiled hopefully.

Luckily for all concerned, Remus' homicidal mood seemed to have given way to bone-crushing embarrassment. "I can't believe I did that," he mumbled, his face an unhealthy cherry red.

"I'm so sorry," James repeated guiltily. "If there's _anything-"_

"Three months." Remus interrupted. "Our original deal, but three months. No. Four."

"Done."

The two friends grinned awkwardly at each other, and started towards the Gryffindor tower, leaving a very confused Lily Evans to wonder if she'd ever understand boys.

...

"Ow! Remus, you knob! Why are you _under _the table?" Sirius rubbed his toe ruefully, before flopping down next to his friend.

It was later that afternoon, and Remus was curled into the back of a desk with a half-eaten block of chocolate that was roughly the same size as a large cat.

"I _was _hiding," he said condescendingly.

"From James?"

"And Peter. Bastards keep trying to eat my chocolate. And I don't think I can ever really look James in the face again. I'm going to spend my whole life bent double and staring at people's shoes. When I shuffle past, you'll all say, 'Hey! It's that weird guy who used to be our friend before he got himself hopped up on illegal love potion and tried to make out with James Potter's knee-"

"You actually did that?" Sirius interrupted, far too interested, in Remus' personal opinion. "I thought that was the Prewett brothers making stuff up again."

"I did that," he hissed. "Now shut up and leave me to my gluttony."

"No I won't. Friends don't let friends overdose without sharing." Sirius cleared his throat importantly. "And we will _never_ stop being friends."

Remus rolled his eyes at the other boy's dramatics. "Never?"

"Never. Not even if you eat me."

There was a silence that just _oozed _skepticism.

"Well, maybe then," conceded Sirius. "But then I'd be dead and you'd be in Azkaban, so it wouldn't really count."

Remus rolled his eyes again (but the other way, for variety), and scooted out from under the table, pulling Sirius up with him.

"Anyway, my dear Moony," Sirius continued, brandishing a broken quill and half a sheet of crumpled parchment, "we have a _revenge _to plan."

"We do?"

"Indeed. It's generally been my opinion that the windows in the first floor Charms classroom are always particularly easy to leave open."

"They are?"

"Yup. It would be a shame if someone , say, accidentally fell out of one. Being as the windows face out onto the Great Lake and all."

"Oh. O_h. _It would be a shame, wouldn't it, Sirius? Especially as the Giant Squid always feels particularly frisky in February."

"It would be a terrible shame, Moony. Such a terrible shame."

"But we'll do it anyway?"

"Of course."

* * *

**18. Yo Ho Ho and a Stupid Hat**

It was late on an orange Saturday afternoon. Leaves were rustling in the light breeze, the sun hung low and warm in the deep blue sky, the muted buzz of talking students filtered through the clear air and Remus Lupin was in a tree.

The tree wasn't as nice as his one at home, sadly. It was far too short and it smelt of sour apples, but it did have a lovely view of the Charms classrooms. In particular, the Charms classroom with windows that opened out over the Great Lake. Remus smiled absentmindedly as a tiny figure in Gryffindor robes pitched head-first out of the window, limbs flailing madly. A thin, piercing shriek echoed off the high castle walls and was abruptly cut off with a splash and a gurgle.

He'd have to thank Simmons for showing him that Hurling hex, later.

Ominous rustling from the branches above his head almost made him look up and away from the scene in the lake, but by the time he'd decided to ignore it, a stick was poking him in the ribs.

"Have at thee!" howled his assailant, jabbing at him again, this time in the general vicinity of his spleen. Remus batted the thing away impatiently. What he had at first mistaken for a stick was apparently someone's' failed attempt to transfigure a sword. The wobbly bit on the end was a little worrying, but it _was _nice and shiny.

"Sorry, what?" he said. "I couldn't hear you over the sound of your shirt. And what on earth are you doing with that silver thing? What is it, a silver banana?"

Sirius ignored the slur on his clothing and poked Remus in the side a third time. "It's not a stick, it's a _sword," _he said, as if speaking to a particularly slow toddler. _"_And I said, _have at thee!" _Sirius waved his stick (sorry_, sword, _thought Remus wryly) around a bit, got it tangled in the laces of his lurid shirt and fell out of the tree.

He landed on his head with a sickening thud, and didn't move.

Remus felt like the temperature had just dropped by about thirty degrees. Someone seemed to have stolen all the air, too – he was finding it a little hard to breathe.

Sirius just lay there in a tangled pile of limbs, half-curled around a tree-root.

Maybe they would put him in Azkaban for this. It could have been worse – at least he hadn't eaten him, Remus thought wildly. Would they even let him go to the funeral? Admittedly, he was a bit fuzzy on who 'they' actually were, but his far-too-wild imagination was already conjuring up images of tall, cruel men in black robes. And chains. And cages. And _registration._

And worst of all, no Sirius.

But then Sirius twitched, and Remus could breathe again.

"Sirius! Merlin, are you okay?" He scrambled along his branch and slithered down the tree trunk gracelessly, scraping his shin, landing heavily on the hard-packed earth and almost twisting an ankle. He limped over to Sirius' body and hesitated, not wanting to move him in case he really _was _dangerously injured. "Can you breathe?" he asked instead, finding a temporary refuge in the words that were now spilling out of his mouth uncontrollably. "Are you broken? How many fingers am I holding up?" Remus finally decided to move, and pulled the other boy off the tree root as if he weighed nothing. He carefully flipped him onto his back and hovered over his face, examining it closely. Sirius didn't even seem to be breathing. "What's your name?" Remus asked urgently, watching his eyes for any tiny flicker of movement. "What's _my _name? When did the Chudley Cannons last win a match?"

This time, Sirius didn't twitch at all.

Remus - although he'd deny it later – started to panic. "Why won't you answer me?" he begged. "Which eye does McGonagall twitch when she wants to turn you into a goat? What does Peter keep under his bed? WHAT IS THE NAME OF JAMES' CAT?" He fought the urge to shake Sirius by the shoulders, and instead tried to lever open his eyelids.

Sirius moaned piteously, and waved limp hands about his face, trying to ward off the prying fingers. Remus sat back on his heels, swallowing a relieved sigh. "Why did I have to be friends with such a drama queen?" he asked, grinning like a loon despite himself.

"Just so you know, I'm not Merlin. But yes, yes, no, none, Sirius the Wonder-Crumpet, Moony the Worry-Wart, 15th February 1969, I'm cruel and like to make you worry, the left one, Witch Weekly magazines he thinks we don't know about, Snapdragon McFisticuff and because you worship the ground I walk on, living only to bring me chocolate cake and fried onion sandwiches." He reeled off the answers as if he had them memorized (which he probably did, considering how many times he almost killed himself) and beamed up at Remus like an angel.

Or at least, like an angel in a ridiculously stupid hat. It had _plumes, _for Merlin's sake. _Ostrich feather_ plumes.

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger, trying to hide the manic grin that wouldn't disappear. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. _Why _are you dressed as a pirate?"

Sirius struck what he probably thought was a manly pose, and thrust out his skinny chest. "Because I am one," he proclaimed. "_I've_ said it before, and I'll say it again. And again. And again."

"How many times, exactly?" asked Remus, looking up at Sirius and fighting the urge to roll his eyes with everything he had. Funny how Sirius was so much more annoying when he was conscious.

"Until you finally agree to refer to me only by my true title of Captain Piratical Bigship The Utterly Fantastic!"

"I thought it was Sirius the Wonder-Crumpet?"

Sirius tossed his head haughtily, setting his plumes aflutter. "Such childish names are behind me, I'll have you know, Sidekick Moonikins the Almost-Awesome." He grinned. "That's your new title, by the way."

Remus could _feel _his brain cells dying in protest.

"My motto," Sirius continued happily, completely oblivious to his friend's imminent brain-death, "will be: _Ta erat quando hic adveni. _It's in Latin and everything_."_

Remus lost his tenuous grip on himself. The eyes rolled. He was actually a bit worried they wouldn't stop and would end up rolling out of his head and into the lake, but at least that would mean he didn't have to look at Sirius' god-awful boots anymore. They were _knee-high. _With _buckles. _Wrenching his thoughts away from destroying the boots with a superhuman effort, he managed a weak smile in Sirius' direction. "You do know," he said carefully, "that particular motto doesn't have anything to do with pillaging or smiting or pirating of any kind?"

"Yeah!" crowed Sirius, grinning broadly. "It's th_e Marauder's _motto! It means_, 'It was that way when I got here!'"_

Remus thumped his head against the tree trunk half-heartedly. "I'm sorry," he said, not sorry at all, "but you're about as piratical as a limp noodle."

"Arr?" said Sirius, brandishing his thing-sword hopefully.

"Narr," replied Remus firmly. "Don't you remember what happened that time Peter nicked your best quill and you went all Captain Hook on his arse?"

Sirius folded his arms thoughtfully, his hands buried in a fall of rather ratty yellowing lace. "No, I don't think so..." he mused. A thought struck him and he visibly brightened. "I seem to recall there was a parrot," he said hopefully.

Remus rolled his eyes again, reasoning that if they hadn't fallen out by now, he might as well roll them while he had them. "It was a canary, actually. And you dyed it _green."_

"Oh." Dawning realization broke over Sirius' eye-patched face. He winced a little as the memories started to seep through.

"And Mrs Norris ate it," continued Remus, taking a slightly vindictive pleasure in Sirius' discomfort.

"Right."

"_Whole."_

Sirius gulped. "You're joking, aren't you?" he pleaded.

"Am I?" asked Remus, furrowing his eyebrows in feigned confusion.

"Aren't you?"

"Aren't I what?"

"Joking."

"Joking?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"_What?"_

"No. Sorry."

Sirius frowned. He felt like he'd missed something important, somewhere. Sighing, he took off his eye patch and flung his heavily be-feathered hat in the lake, where it skipped once, twice and then sank like a stone. He looked up at Remus questioningly. _"_How limp, exactly, should my noodly self be?"

Slinging an arm around the drooping shoulders of (former) Captain Piratical Bigship The Utterly Fantastic, Remus gave him a reassuring smile. "You daft sod," he said fondly, "why mope about your lack of inner pirate when you could be watching our very own James putting on a show?"

Sirus unconsciously straightened, sword forgotten in his hand. "I thought I'd just missed it?" he asked. He craned his neck a little. "Oh look, no, there he goes. Got a set of lungs on him, he has. You jinxed him, Moony?"

"Got Simmons to do it."

"The 'I secretly like to sing Celestina Warbeck in the showers' Simmons?" Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Bit odd, that one."

Shrugging innocently, Remus examined his left thumbnail. "Not anymore. Apparently, someone managed to stop the rumors. It all turned out to be a misunderstanding with a broken radio." He looked up at Sirius' stunned silence and shrugged again. "The boy does a mean Hurling Hex," he said. "What was I supposed to do?"

"A broken radio makes perfect sense," Sirius agreed hastily. "That was what I thought in the first place!"

"Mmm. You know, that water does look a bit cold."

"True, that."

"Think we should help get him out?

"Nah, look, I think Professor McGonagall has him on a _Wingardium Leviosa."_

"Not for long, if he keeps wiggling like a toaster in a bathtub."

"What's a toaster?"

"Muggle machine that sucks out your brains and replaces them with marmalade."

"Thought so."

There was a wail and another splash, followed by the angry shouting of a teacher who's got nastily creative ideas for detention and knows how to use them. The tiny figure in the lake suddenly stopped shrieking and thrashing about and began to rise into the air again, this time silent and stiff as a board.

"Full Body-Bind," said Remus, impressed. "Nice touch."

Sirius flopped down onto the ground next to him in a boneless heap. "I'm tired," he said, in a voice that was somehow muffled by his kneecap and his elbow at the same time. "What d'you want to do now?"

Remus considered for a moment, before getting up and walking over into the shadow of the tree. He carefully removed his shoes and lined them up neatly by the base of the trunk, a sock balled up inside each one. He hooked his perfectly knotted tie over a branch and unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves, deftly rolling them up past his bony elbows.

Pushing himself to his feet, Sirius eyed him warily. "Er, Moony? What are you-"

"Nothing," said Remus solemnly, pulling his robes over his head and folding them in an orderly pile beside his shoes. He advanced on Sirius with a glint in his eye. Sirius recognized it as the glint that said '_I've just had a rather good idea, but you're probably not going to like it"._ His own eyes widened in dismay and he tried to make an escape, but instead tripped over a tree root.

Sirius staggered upright. "Remus," he tried again, "What on earth-"

Remus quirked an eyebrow. "Avast, ye scurvy dog,' he said conversationally, and tackled Sirius into the lake.

* * *

**19. Explorers Have the Most Fun (And the Most Broken Limbs)**

Sirius was lying flat on his back in the middle of his bed. He was twitching like a junkie, as he had been every night for the past week and a half. Heroically fighting the urge to jump off the top of Gryffindor Tower, he shoved his head under the pillow and swallowed a decidedly un-manly whimper.

Sirius Black was going through withdrawal, and it was _not fun._

"My dears," James' mum had said as she dropped him and James off at the train station, "Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. I _know _you can do this." She'd hugged them both until they couldn't breathe, and then waved them off with a brave, quavering smile.

Sirius fought off a shudder at the memory. He'd spent the last week of the Easter holidays at James' house, as he had the year before, and James' parents – utterly insane the both of them, it wasn't hard to see where James got it from - had somehow gotten the idea into their heads that the two boys were addicted to pranking. It was crazy! Just because they didn't like to go more than a day or so without playing a trick on someone didn't mean they were _addicted. _They pranked because they wanted to, not because they had to. So when Mrs Potter had begged them both to try and 'fight their demons', as she put it, he was more than happy to agree, just to shut her up. After all, it wasn't like he was addicted or anything. He could stop whenever he wanted to.

Right?

Of course he could.

"_Psst! _Hey Sirius?"

The tentative whisper snapped Sirius out of his twitchy haze, and he sat bolt upright in bed. That was James' voice. James _never _said anything after lights-out anymore. This must mean...

_He hadn't been the first to crack after all!_

Sirius answered James with a smile on his face and a song in his heart. "Yeah, James? What?"

There was a silence. Then- "It's been a while. You wanna go find something to blow up?"

"_Yes!" _Sirius hissed. He leapt from the bed and almost skipped across the darkened dormitory, almost meaning that he did not, in fact, skip, and was therefore able to preserve his remaining shreds of dignity. _Not addicted, not addicted, not addicted, _he chanted in his head, firmly. _I just... like explosions._

"Sirius! Be _quiet! _Watch the-" James broke off his whispered warning. Sirius, his marauding skills blunted by _days _of neglect, had tripped over Remus' trunk mid-pirouette.

"Remus never heard us, right?" asked Sirius from where he was wedged beneath the dresser. "I mean, Peter's still snoring, and Moony can't wake up in the middle of the night-"

"Oh yes I can," a hoarse voice snapped. "I just _really hate it."_

James and Sirius shared a panic-stricken gaze in the dim light.

"Sorry, Moony."

"Yeah, we never meant to-"

"_Twelve days_,"Remus said disbelievingly, poking his disheveled head out from the curtains around his bed. "_Twelve!"_

"Calm down, Moony, it's not that bad," said James with a weak smile.

Remus continued as if the other boy hadn't spoken. "You lasted twelve days and-" he checked his watch "-thirty seven minutes before your non-pranking promise broke." He frowned, absentmindedly tapping at the watch-face. "I knew you weren't going to manage, but I thought you could do at least a month."

"Well, we didn't exactly break it," Sirius hedged. "We just never said how long we were going to stop pranking for. And we've got a really good plan this time, don't we James?"

Remus buried his head in his hands. "Then I'd better come with you. Someone has to make sure you don't get eaten by some kind of velociraptor." He levered himself out of bed and fixed James with a vaguely manic glare. "I _know _how the plans go," he hissed. Remus strode out the door, James and Sirius trailing in his wake, mildly worried by the fact that Remus didn't seem to have been joking.

"What the hell is a velociraptor?" Sirius asked in an undertone.

Remus ignored him. "What was this marvelous plan, then?" he asked, "The one I dragged myself out of bed for?"

James scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Er, well... It's not a plan, _as such"_ he mumbled. "More like a general idea."

Remus rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Don't tell me. You were just going to sneak out of bed and wander around, hoping for the best, until you found something exciting that you could animate, or polka-dot or explode. Am I right?"

"Are we really that predictable?" Sirius asked with a sheepish grin.

"_Yes,"_ said Remus. "And it's going to get you caught, which is why you are going to follow me."

James blinked. "Hang on," he said. "Not to sound negative or anything, but follow _you?"_

Remus smiled. "Yup. This way." He walked out of the common room and down the corridor, James and Sirius once again left hurrying to catch up.

"How does he _do _that?" James whispered to Sirius.

"Do what?"

"The whole, 'Follow me, peons!' thing?"

Sirius shrugged. "Beats me." He wasn't about to tell James, but he'd always privately thought that it was because every group, including the Marauders, needed that one member who was on a whole other level of brilliant. And it sure wasn't Peter.

Voices echoing from the stairwell at the end of the corridor jerked Sirius back to reality, and he dragged James and Remus behind a generic statue. (Ignatius the Illuminated, Patrick the Polygamous, Netitia the Nearly-Squashed – they all started to look the same after a while.) "Quiet," he whispered. "_Prefects."_

As they drew closer, the voices became more distinct. The two Prefects were discussing something in hushed tones, completely oblivious to the castle around them.

"It's not a positive belief, but rather a disbelief that the higher levels of simplified multilevel models are out there in the territory," said one.

"Oh, I don't know," replied the other, "Reductionism isn't so much a positive hypothesis as the _absence_ of belief - in particular, disbelief in a form of the Mind Projection Fallacy."

As the pair turned a corner, their conversation fading away, the three boys unfolded themselves from their hiding place.

"Ravenclaws," said James dismissively, brushing the dust off his pajama shirt. "Absolutely batty, the lot of them." He started off down the corridor, Sirius at his side. "Remus?" he called over his shoulder, "You coming? Lead the way, oh mighty leader."

Remus was standing stock still, rooted to the spot, a glazed expression on his face. "But the Mind Projection Fallacy generalizes as an error," he said urgently, " and it's in the argument over-" Sirius leapt at him and rugby tacked him to the floor.

"James! We're losing him!" He slapped Remus around the face, to no effect – Remus started to mumble about quarks. "Quick, Remus," Sirius begged. "Think about dungbombs! Fire! Sparkly things! Remember, _you're a Marauder!"_ He tried to slap him again, but Remus snapped out of his daze and caught Sirius' arm with a glare that promised that if Sirius ever tried that again, _ever, _Remus would take his hand off at the wrist.

Sirius gulped and thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his robes. "Er. Shall we carry on, then?"

Remus got to his feet and started off down the corridor again, mumbling to himself about idiotic friends who wouldn't know a good idea if it bit them on the arse. He was smiling though, so Sirius chalked the whole thing up as a success, and promptly forgot about it.

Several staircases, complicated turns and one detour around a large stuffed frog later, Remus came to a halt in front of a statue of a supremely ugly witch with an eyepatch and an enormous hat. "Here we are, gentlemen," he said, because he was prone to talking like a Victorian nobleman when he got excited, "I do believe we have reached our goal."

"Indeed, old chap," said Sirius, because he was even worse, "But how the devil do we open it?"

"Dunno," James shrugged, painfully modern. "Anyone got a hammer?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "Honestly. We don't have to smash the thing. You can tell it'll have a password." He crouched low, pointing at a tiny design beneath the brim of the statue's hat. "See that little castle thing on her ear?" Sirius nodded, and elbowed James until he started nodding too, "There's one carved into that bathroom mirror, one in the floorboards of our Charms classroom and there's another on that statue of Gregory the Smarmy." Remus' face lit up with a wicked grin. "And_ they _all have some kind of password. So all we need to do..."

"...is figure this one out," finished Sirius. "_Brilliant."_

"Maybe its like the Headmaster's office?" offered James. "Cockroach cluster?"

" Acid pop?" Remus asked the statue. "Fizzing whizzbee?" Nothing happened.

"You're not trying hard enough," said Sirius. He cleared his throat importantly. "How about... Pepper Imp? Sugar Quill? Jelly Slugs, Licorice Wands, Cauldron Cakes, Droobles Best Blowing Gum-" he paused for a breath, James and Remus looking on in horror.

"We share a _room _with this sugar-devil," murmured Remus. "How have we survived this long?"

Sirius just continued with his list, happily unaware. "Or it could be Muggle. I know a lot of them because Mum _hates _the things. How about Mars Bar? Milky Way? Peppermint Patty? Licorice Allsort, Gobstopper, Toffee-"

"Okay, that's enough," said James hastily. "I think we've figured out by now that it's not a sweet."

Remus frowned thoughtfully. "It could be like a common room. Maybe it needs a house-ish password."

"Audacia?"

"Flitterbloom?"

"Er... Thestral?"

"Bugger this for a lark," said Sirius decisively. "Moony, how good is your Reparo?"

Remus shrugged. "It's decent enough. Why?" Sirius rolled up his sleeves.

"Oh no," said James. "Ohhh no." He started to back away from the statue.

Remus gave him a funny look. "What," he asked, "You don't think Sirius would be stupid enough to-"

"STAND BACK," shrieked Sirius, a feral light in his eyes. "IT'S GONNA BLOW!"

"No, I take that back. Of course he is. As you were."

"_Dissendium!" _Sirius yelled, stabbing his wand right in the witch's face.

James and Remus, sensible boys that they were, dived for cover from the razor sharp shards of splitting stone, which – did not come.

"It's Diffindo, you moron," sighed Remus, "Can't you even do the stupid things right?"

"No," said Sirius smugly, "I do them _better _than right. You should open your eyes now," he added. "Apparently, Dissendium was the password."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Why am I even surprised?" he asked hopelessly.

James got to his feet, brushing yet more dust off his pajama shirt. "Well, that was easy," he said happily.

Just for that, the other two threw him down the hole first.

**...**

Remus tripped over yet another uneven flagstone, stumbling into Sirius for what seemed to be the millionth time. "This was a stupid idea," he muttered under his breath. "Stupid. I don't care if I came up with it. It's _stupid_. I'm stupid, you're stupid, James is stupid... Peter's the only one in this group with even a bit of sense, and that's probably because you never gave him the chance to join in on this particular little bit of stupidity."

"There_ is_ a reason for that," James said, his indignant voice echoing off the low ceiling of the tunnel.

Remus winced. Right. He'd forgotten about that.

Last Tuesday, James had heard Peter talking to someone named Shirley while he was getting dressed. When he confronted him about letting a stranger into their bathroom – a stranger called _Shirley_, no less - Peter had replied by saying, "Oh don't worry. I'm only talking to my underwear."

The following conversation had been decidedly strange, even by James' standards.

"_You... named your underwear?"_

"_Uh, yeah? Doesn't everyone? I have a roster too - I wear Patricia on Thursdays, Steve on the second Saturday of each month-"_

"_You know what, Pete? That's awesome. I'd love to hear more about it, but I have to go somewhere."_

"_Oh, have fun! Where are you going?"_

"_...Away. RIGHT NOW."_

Ever since the Incident (which Sirius had actually refused to even think about ever again) the three boys had been kind of avoiding Peter. Remus felt a bit bad about it, but really- _Shirley?_

"Hey, Earth to Moony?" Sirius waved a hand in front of Remus' face, but snatched it back before it got bitten off. "You alive in there?"

Remus blinked, snapping out of his reverie. "What?" he asked.

"I'd like a little help."

"With what?" Remus asked, although he had a pretty good idea.

"Well there's a trap door..."

_Ten points to Gryffindor, _Remus thought sarcastically. "Damn it, use your wand!"

Sirius waggled his eyebrows. "Mmm, I love it when you talk dirty to me."

"_..._Erk_."_

James butted in before Remus could explode with terror. "What Sirius is _trying _to say, is that we're both pants at unlocking charms."

"_Pants," _agreed Sirius fervently, before adding in another eyebrow wiggle for good measure, because come on, he said _pants._

"_-_and we were wondering if you, kind sir, would aid us in our mission to be- er, to be purveyors of aids to magical mischief makers."

"Heh. _Perve-_eyors."

"Sirius, oh my God, shut up, _stop talking."_

"I will if you'll open the trapdoor first," said Sirius, with all the tenacity of a stubborn three-year-old.

"Oh , _honestly," _said Remus, shoving his way past to the trapdoor. "_Alohomora." _The trapdoor swung open with the dry creak of _victory. _There was a bit of pushing and arguing as the three of them tried to all get through at once, but as they realised where they were, an awed silence fell.

Sirius, as usual, was the first to break it. "Gentlemen," he said, "We have found... _paradise."_

…

The three boys staggered back up into the dormitory, arms full of contraband that Remus had insisted they leave money for – I_'m not hanging around with thieves, really, who do you take me for? Sirius?_

"On three, yeah? One, two...three!"

"AARGH!" Peter yelled, rudely jolted awake when a particularly spiky piece of Cockroach Cluster got him in the eye. He rubbed at it, and then froze. His bed was literally _covered _in food. "Am I dreaming?" he asked in a tremulous voice. "Is this real life?" He gingerly picked up a packet of Ice Mice, dangling them from one corner as if they were going to explode.

"They're real, Peter," said James. "We wanted to say sorry for leaving you behind on this one."

Peter frowned, but was temporarily mollified by the sugar. "That's okay," he said, "but where did you go? I wanted to come!"

"Well, I wanted a motorcycle for my tenth birthday," Remus said dryly, "but as the great philosopher Jagger once said, 'You can't always get what you want.'"

"Who?" James whispered to Sirius.

"Dunno," Sirius whispered back. "Some famous guy, I guess. Like the muggle equivalent of Aristotle."

James nodded wisely. "Probably. Moony was going on about some bloke named Freddy, too... I don't remember the last name. Mars? Jupiter? Some planet, I think."

"Mercury?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Wanted to ride his bicycle all the time."

"_Weird."_

"I know, right? You can never tell with those philosopher types."

* * *

**20. The CURSE**

There were three weeks until the summer break, and the whole school was buzzing. Literally. Professor Ryan, the most recent teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts, had been transfigured into a large wasp, and no one had figured out how to turn him back.

When he found out, James had muttered something about a curse and gone back to compulsively polishing his broom. (He'd been doing that far more than was strictly normal, and the Hufflepuffs had a pool going on how long it would take for the polish fumes to melt his brains. Assuming he had some in the first place, that is.)

The curse, Sirius explained later to a very confused Remus, was that no teacher had held the Defense post for any longer than a year.

"I don't actually know when it _started_," he'd said with a frown, "but it's the only thing that makes sense. If you listen to the upperclassmen, none of them can remember a professor lasting. And don't you remember what happened to Professor Clarke, last year?"

Professor Clarke hadn't known about the curse either. That hadn't stopped him from slipping down a particularly malicious staircase on the third floor and almost breaking his neck, two days before school let out. He'd left in an enormous hurry, crutches and all, after overhearing something about the curse in the Hospital Wing. Dumbledore had had quite a difficult job finding a replacement.

This year's Professor had been an enormous Irishman called Amarillo Ryan. He was an ex-Auror who'd taken the job in a blaze of glory, vowing that the curse would stop with him. That plan had sort of failed miserably, what with the wings and the three foot long stinger and all.

James had actually seen it happen, and was basking in the horrified attention as only a fifteen-year-old boy could.

"And then what happened?"Peter propped his chin up on his forearms and stared at James with eyes wider than a house-elf's. James leant in towards him, a conspiratorial grin splitting his face in half.

"And _then_ he noticed the wings, collapsed and started frothing at the mouth. How cool is _that?_" James elbowed Sirius, who elbowed Remus, who rolled his eyes.

"What? I was _there!" _James repeated indignantly, for the seventh time in about half an hour.

Sirius elbowed Remus, who rolled his eyes again – it was a good system. Peter ignored them and widened his own eyes a little more. It looked a bit painful, to tell the truth.

"Wow," he breathed. "Yuck," he added, as a sort of afterthought, and then, "Wow," again.

"_And then_," James said self-importantly, "I saw Madame Pomfrey put him on a stretcher before you could say 'I told you so.' Dumbledore's already put a new ad up in the Prophet."

"Yeah," Sirius interrupted. "Wanted – one utter, utter madman, to teach creatively insubordinate children for one year only. Preferably with a little former training in education, but a big stick would probably work just as well. Shouldn't mind death or dismemberment. Pay good, health insurance nonexistent."

Remus leveled a gaze at him. "Creatively insubordinate?" he asked mildly.

Sirius just gave him a shrug. "Sounds better than half-crazed lunatics with a certain talent when it comes to itching powder."

"_Itching powder? _Still? What are you, six?"

Sirius raised his hands in surrender. "Easy, Moony! Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

"Yeah, Moony," said James. "Don't fix it if it ain't broke."

Peter nodded wisely. "It's all water under the bridge, my child. All water under the bridge."

Remus blinked. "Right. Hang on, what?"

"The bridge_, _young grasshopper. The _bridge."_

"I get it!" James snapped his fingers. "By bridge, of course, you mean..." He trailed off with a sly wink that made Remus feel vaguely dirty for even witnessing it.

"No," said Peter with a slight frown, "By bridge, I mean_ bridge_. That one between the Divination Tower and the Transfiguration block. With the annoying handrail." Peter gestured haphazardly in the general direction of the bridge, accidentally making quite a rude hand gesture in the process. Remus' vague dirty feeling kicked up a notch or two, and he shuddered. Was it possible to wash out the inside of your brain?

"Say no more, say no more," James grinned. He stretched over to whisper in Remus' ear. "By handrail, he means-"

"Nothing that could possibly be even a little bit dodgy," said Remus hastily, before he could descend into utter despair. _Puppies,_ he thought to himself firmly. _Puppies and babies and rainbows and other disgustingly fluffy things. No. Innuendoes. WHATSOEVER._

"No," said Sirius with a smirk, "He meant-"

"_Puppies!" _Remus interrupted wildly. "And that's the end of it!"

"What d'you mean?" asked Peter, happily unaware of Remus' impending meltdown. "Puppies have nothing to do with-"

"_La-la-la, I can't hear you!"_

"What's wrong with him?" James whispered, glancing over at Remus, who'd thrown his arms over his head and was singing at the top of his lungs.

"_OH, IRISH EYES ARE SMILING-"_

"Beats me," shrugged Sirius. "You can come out now," he yelled over Remus' singing. He was the only one who could- Remus was very, very loud when he put his mind to it.

"Really, though," said Peter, his eyes miraculously returned to something nearer their original size, "A _wasp? _Really? That was all the curse could come up with?"

He, James, Remus and Sirius were lying up on the roof of the Ravenclaw wing, warm and Sunday-lazy. There were only a couple of weeks left before school let out, and the substitute Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had been smuggled in late last night. According to the mutterings of an annoyed Argus Filch, the man had been more than a little jumpy, and had hexed Mrs Norris on sight because he thought she was a boggart.

"I don't know - it's not so bad," Sirius said with another shrug. "I like that new Professor already. Even if he is deathly afraid of cats."

"It doesn't matter all that much what he's like," Remus said, laying his head back against the sun-warmed terracotta slating. "I just want to know what he's going to teach us."

Sirus was flabbergasted. Mainly because the running commentary he kept up in his head liked to say _'Our hero was flabbergasted by this unexpected turn of events!", _but also because _everyone _knew that the last weeks of school was when you did less than nothing in class. "But Moony!" he said, flabbergastedly. Well, he tried for flabbergastedly, but it really came out a little high-pitched and shaky. He coughed (in a manly way, of course) before continuing in a voice a full two octaves deeper. "Only two weeks left! What are they going to teach us?"

"There are three, actually-"

"-Oh come on, you know the last one never counts-" James tried to interrupt Remus' interruption, but Remus just kept right on going.

"_Three, _I said, and I think he'll probably start us out on the fifth year material."

"No! But we're so traumatized by the, er, incapacitation of our favourite teacher! Aren't we, James?" A quick elbow to the kidney had James nodding in agreement.

"Absolutely traumatized," he said earnestly.

Sirius bit a knuckle and gazed off melodramatically into the distance._ 'Once again, the depth of our hero's emotional torment was deeper than a tureen of really thick soup, cream of tomato to be exact, with a light sprinkling of pepper on the surface, and a soft bread roll-'_

"Sirius? You thinking about food again?"

"No. Yes. No- I mean... Oh shut up, all of you."


	5. Fifth Year Part 1

_A/N: Back on track after a looong unplanned hiatus. It's been a while, so you might want to re-read the whole thing - I've done an enormous chapter reshuffle/rewrite. Review if you're still with me! (I'm planning on five chapters per year through until the end of school and then an epilogue. Sound good?)_

**21. I Spy With My Little Eye Something Beginning With AAARGGHH**

Three week into his fifth year and Remus was already perilously close to flipping his shit. Transfiguration was insane, Potions was a nightmare, and if he had to write more than another three feet comparing Muggle calculus to the Seventh Principle of Arithmancy, _somebody was going to die. _Contrary to what the rest of the Marauders seemed to believe, Remus knew that the OWLs later in the year were going to be ridiculously difficult.

He also knew that if Peter, James and Sirius didn't stop their muttering from behind Peter's bed, he would not be held responsible for his actions.

"_Nows as good a time as any, don't you think?"_

"_Yeah, I guess..."_

"_But if we just wait until after dinner-"_

"SHUT _UP_!"

At Remus' shriek, three guilty heads popped up from behind the bed. If he hadn't been so frantic about finishing this essay in the _next fifteen minutes_, Remus might have wondered why they were looking more excited than actually remorseful.

"Sorry, mate," said James cheerfully, getting to his feet and pulling Peter up after him. "We didn't mean to disturb your studying."

Remus blinked. Had James just... _apologized?_

"Yeah, we'll just get out of your hair," said Sirius. He gave Remus a grin over his shoulder as he shepherded the other two out of the dorm. "But meet us up here after dinner?"

Remus chanced a careful nod. This was getting a little creepy. Sirius _never _left him alone when he had that crazy planning smile on his face. _What in all hell was going on?_

"We've got something _important _to show- ow! Mmmph!" An indignant Peter was lifted bodily from the room, gagged by both James and Sirius at the same time.

"See you then!" someone hollered at him up the stairs before he was left in ominous silence.

Returning to his books – _only ten more minutes until I have to hand this in damndamnDAMN – _Remus promptly forgot about the whole episode. It's not like his friends were being that much weirder than normal, anyway.

…

"Look, this way's quicker, here-" James pulled Remus out of the Great Hall as soon as he was done with his dinner and shoved him into an unfamiliar corridor. He'd been fidgety all through the meal, constantly checking the time and all but shoving food down Remus' throat in an effort to get him to finish faster. "Sirius and Peter are waiting and we've got to _hurry!" _He pulled out his wand and poked at a series of discoloured bricks in the wall.

"What are you – _hoof." _The corridor compressed and contracted, cutting off Remus' sentence as well as his circulation, before spitting him and James out directly opposite the Gryffindor portrait. "Huh," he said. "How did you manage that?"

"No time!" James sang, dragging the other boy forward by his robes.

Remus hurried along behind him good-naturedly. "I don't see what the rush is," he said, nodding to the people giving them funny looks in the common room as he was whisked past and pulled up the dormitory stairs.

"You will," promised James, "Oh, this is going to be great!" He threw open the door, which would have been more dramatic had it not immediately bounced off the frame and slammed shut again. "Look!" James opened the door and pushed Remus through it.

"I don't see," he said. "What am I supposed to be looking for?"

"There," said James, "on your bed!" He pointed helpfully.

Remus peered closely at what appeared to be a large pile of black fur lumped in the middle of the mattress. He took a step closer.

The fur _winked _at him.

Remus shrieked like a girl and cast a hex that tied the _thing_ up in a neat little net hanging from the ceiling. Two yellow eyes glared down at him balefully, watching him trying not to hyperventilate.

"Ooh," said Peter, happily oblivious, "That's a nifty hex. Can you show me the incantation again?"

"No time!" gasped Remus. "Bear! THERE'S A FUCKING BEAR IN OUR ROOM!"

"No it's not," said James patiently. "It's only –"

"A bear! WHY AREN'T WE RUNNING?"

"I... er, I don't know," said Peter, giving James a puzzled look. "Why should we be running?"

"Because when there's a bear in your bed, THAT'S WHAT YOU FUCKING DO!" howled Remus.

"Just calm down," said James placatingly.

"Don't try and calm me down," Remus said in a shaking voice, wand gripped tight in a white-knuckled hand. _"I know how Goldilocks ends!"_

"Who?" asked Sirius, who had been mysteriously silent thus far.

"Shut _up_ Sirius, you're missing the point –"

Remus broke off. Sirius gave a meek little wave from inside the net.

"...Surprise?"

Remus just stared, his brain struggling to move into 'Oh Good, There's Sirius' mode from its previous state of 'OH GOD OH GOD BEAR BEAR BEAR THERE'S A FUCKING BEAAAAR'.

"And can you let me down now?" Sirius wiggled against the netting. "I can't feel my feet."

"Sure," said Remus, still a bit dazed. "Just let me..." he made a sawing motion with his wand and Sirius fell into an undignified heap on the floor.

"Tadaa!" Sirius crowed as he picked himself up. "And look, Pete and James have got it too." He pointed over at where the others had been standing. In their place, an awkwardly coltish stag was chewing on a lampshade, a sleek rat hanging from his antlers by the tail.

"_Animagi?" _breathed Remus, "No way. No. I am not believing this."

"I'm a bit jealous though," said James after he'd flickered back into boy-shape and thrown Peter-as-a-rat into an intimidating heap of dirty laundry. "We get disbelief, but Sirius got, well, more _yelling_."

"That's because he thought I was a bear," Sirius explained patiently. "Perfectly understandable."

"You three do realise that this is the most illegal thing you could have possibly done? Short of killing someone?" Remus asked.

"Well, yeah," came a muffled voice from in the middle of the clothes pile. "But think of it this way – now when you have to go off because of your furry little problem, you won't have to go alone."

"Yeah," agreed Sirius, wrapping Remus in a tight, slightly doggy-smelling hug. "Now you've got Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail to keep you company."

And as Remus stared at their proud faces with something close to wonder, a small voice piped up in the back of his head.

"_Well. This is a hell of a lot more exciting than a bear, isn't it?"_


	6. Fifth Year Part 2

**22. There Are Three Sides to Every Story (Part 1)**

…

6.30pm on Tuesday, November 18th, 1975

It wasn't a dark and stormy night. It wasn't even night yet, if you wanted to get right down to it. The Great Hall's enchanted ceiling was a deep cloudless blue, but it wouldn't fade to black for another hour at least. Peter felt that it was important to keep track of such things, since he was the Marauder's official Meteorologist and all. (He wasn't entirely sure what the word meant, true, but he did know that it was to do with weather and had the word 'meteor' in it and therefore had to be cool.)

"Does everybody know the plan?" he asked. They were there early for dinner, and the Great Hall was close to empty. James and Sirius were sat opposite Peter at the quiet end of the Gryffindor table. At his question, both looked up at him, chewing identically enormous mouthfuls of sausage in eerie synchronization.

"Not really," said James through his food. He checked his watch. "We've got ages though, so don't worry about it." He swallowed his mouthful and frowned. "Anyone know where Remus has buggered off to?"

"Moony's gone down to the Shack early," Sirius replied. "Said something about wanting to fix up that window I accidentally broke last time." He looked around shiftily. "But it's not like anyone can pin it on me. Specifically. By name. Everything's circumstantial. _And _it was an accident."

Peter frowned. As far as _he _remembered, Padfoot had gotten a bit overexcited that he had someone new to play with, and had repeatedly head-butted the window until it cracked. He cleared his throat to point this out, but Sirius interrupted him.

"I've got that Astronomy book to return to the library, but we can meet you there after that, _Prongs._"

"Oh ha ha, very good," said James witheringly. "Like that was even funny the first time."

"I'll take _Wormtail _with me," Sirius continued with a grin.

"Really, Sirius," Peter said reproachfully. "Just because you actually like your nickname doesn't mean you need to lord it over the rest of us."

It wasn't until he was halfway to the library that Peter remembered Sirius didn't even take Astronomy.

"What happened to your 'special dispensation', Sirius?" he asked suspiciously. "The one you have because you're allergic to telescopes?"

Sirius only cackled.

Peter was _not _reassured.

"Look, Pete," Sirius said, "Peter, my dear friend. Dear, dear Pete."

Peter braced himself. He knew what was coming.

Sure enough, Sirius soon looked up pleadingly. "It's just this one teeny tiny hex."

"No."

"But-"

"_No."_

Sirius turned on the puppy-dog eyes and since he actually _was _a dog now, they were positively lethal. "It'll be funny, I promise you."

"Well..." Peter could feel himself giving in. _No, Peter! No! Fight the eyes!_

The eyes sparkled. "I haven't even told James about this one yet."

"Oh _fine," _sighed Peter. Sometimes he didn't know why he even tried.

Sirius stopped them behind the Goblin History section of the library, where the shelves tended to move on their own if no one gave them a stern talking-to every couple of days. "Right," he said, "The incantation is _Permuto – _you don't have to do anything else, just say it with me –" He pulled out his wand and poked himself in the nose, before doing the same to Peter.

"_Ow_, you bastard!"

"Sorry, sorry," said Sirius hastily. "On three, okay? One, two, three-"

"_Permuto!"_

Nothing happened. Peter actually felt a bit let down. "What was that supposed to do?" he asked, before clapping both hands over his mouth in horror.

"Oh, this is _weird," _Sirius said happily in Peter's voice. "Testing testing, one two, one two. Peter prefers pink pigs painted purple."

"Do I really sound like that?" asked Peter, thoroughly dismayed. "Really?" Hearing Sirius' voice coming out of his own mouth wasn't so bad, but hearing Sirius' familiarly gleeful tone in his own higher pitched, more innocent voice was flat out _creepy._

"Face the facts, Pete," said Sirius. "When James asked if you needed a Bludger or something to help break your voice, he wasn't just being mean."

"You swapped our voices."

"...Yup."

That smug tone had _no place_ being used in his voice, Peter decided. "You _swapped _our _voices."_

"I know!" said Sirius, "Isn't it amazing?"

Peter would have gotten into the argument, pointing out that no, it wasn't and did Sirius even know the counter curse and the bastard had better hope this wasn't permanent or Peter would set Remus on him – when he looked up.

_Oh._

"Sirius," he said in a small, worried voice that Sirius had probably never used in his entire life, "Please tell me you know how to get us out of here."

Sirius looked up at the unfamiliar stacks of books. _Goblin Trickery of 1781 _seemed to sneer back down at him, before shuffling itself around with _A Comprehensive History of Gringott's Laws _and _Fifty-Three Meaningful Gestures You Can Make With a Wet Teabag! _"Define 'know'," he said hopefully.

"As in, 'do you know the way out of the library '?" Peter said.

Sirius smiled apologetically. "Ah, well..."

"What?" asked Peter. "_What?"_

"Define 'way out'."

"Sirius!"

"Kidding, kidding," Sirius said placatingly. "How about... This way!" He grabbed Peter by the sleeve and dragged him down the nearest aisle.

"We're not going to get there in time," hissed Peter. "It's quarter to ten now, and Remus told me that moonrise is half-past, and if we're late I'll make _you _press the Whomping Willow's freezing knot and see how you you like it!" He yanked his sleeve free and pushed around the corner ahead of Sirius, crashing right into Snape.

Snape scrambled back to his feet, an odd light in his eyes. "The Willow, Black? Is that so?"

Sirius made an abortive lunge for his wand, which Snape cut off with a well placed stunner. Sirius hit the floor with a nasty crunch. He didn't move.

"When he wakes up, tell him thanks_ so much," _Snape sneered at Peter.

"Wait, you don't –" yelped Peter, before stopping at the shock of his own voice in his ears. Snape had already gone. Peter let out a shaky breath and tried to marshall his thoughts. "I guess that's one way of breaking the hex, right Sirius?"

There was no reply.

"Right?" Peter turned around, realised that Sirius was out cold on the floor with his arm bent behind him at a sickening angle and heroically managed not to completely freak out. In fact, he actually had the beginnings of an idea that might fix everything. He pulled out his wand and muttered, "_Point me, _James Potter." The wand jerked in his hand before pointing up in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. If he hurried, he might have time.

Peter hitched up his pants and _ran._

…

"James! _James!" _Peter threw himself round the corner and kept running. James had already left the common room. This was _bad. _This was_ very, very bad. _He sprinted down a staircase leading to another staircase, which, he now remembered, led to another staircase, _fuck this blasted school! _As he finally reached the Entrance Hall and ran out into the night, an invisible hand snagged him by the neck of his robes on the steps up to the school.

"Hoy!" said the disembodied hand. "What's the rush, Pete?"

Peter fell over and tried to start breathing again. He was seeing black spots swimming before his eyes - some people just weren't built to move that fast. But he had a mission, asphyxiation be damned. "Snape," he gasped, "Going to the willow." He flailed upwards and pulled off James' invisibility cloak so that he could get the message across properly. "He heard Sirius!" Peter wheezed. "He _knows._"

"Oh shit," James said with feeling, before dropping everything and throwing himself off the castle steps. He transformed before he hit the ground and cantered off towards the Whomping Willow so fast it made Peter's stomach turn.

...

In the depths of the library, Sirius awoke with a fractured arm and the feeling that something was badly, badly wrong.

…

"We've run out of Skelegro, dear, but this will do just as well for the next day or so." Madam Pomfrey swirled her wand over Sirius' arm and conjured a bright orange Muggle cast. "Try to keep it as still as you can for now," she said sternly, "and that means no Quidditch until Professor Slughorn brews me a new batch. Understood?"

Sirius nodded and leant back into the pillows of the hospital bed. Pomfrey had hidden his shoes to try and force him to stay the whole night and not just sneak out as soon as her back was turned – Sirius was notoriously bad at following doctor's orders. He would have argued out of principle, but he was too busy wondering what the hell he'd done to end up knocked out in the middle of the library. Tonight was important for some reason, he knew that, but he couldn't remember a thing past lunch. As the moonlight streamed in through the high windows of the Hospital Wing, Sirius fell into a fitful sleep.

_A/N: Part 2 coming ASAP. Please review, if you're one of my lurkers who hasn't had the time to yet. (:_


	7. Fifth Year Part 3

**23.**** There Are Three Sides to Every Story (Part 2)**

******...**

"Mr Black?"

Sirius startled awake. "I'm up! I'm up! No hexing before 7 in the morning, James! Moony said those are the... rules..." He trailed off into silence as he realized that it wasn't James trying to wake him. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, squinting against the early morning sun. Professor Dumbledore was standing at the foot of the bed, wearing robes that Sirius privately thought were three shades too yellow for that hour of the morning.

"If you would please come with me, Mr Black," Dumbledore said solemnly.

Sirius was still in his robes, so he slid right out of bed, wincing as his feet hit the cold flagstones. "What's up, sir?" he asked. "Is this about last night?"

Dumbledore raised his head sharply. "Last night, Mr Black?" he murmured, giving Sirius a piercing look from over his spectacles.

Sirius frowned. The last thing he remembered was having lunch with James. They were trying to levitate peas up Snape's nose -_ long distance, double points! - _and then... He'd woken up on the floor in the library, horribly confused. There had been an enormous lump on the back of his head and his arm had hurt so badly that he'd almost thrown up before he was able to get to his feet and stagger to the Hospital Wing. He pushed it all away and focused on the comforting orange of his cast instead. Maybe he'd ask Pomfrey if he could keep that on for a couple of weeks, since he really wasn't a fan of Skelegro. If it worked for Muggles...

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Oh, yes sir," he said, embarrassed for spacing out. _But Muggles were just so cool!_ "I woke up in the library at about eleven last night with a broken arm, and I have no idea how I got there." He shuffled his feet. "Do you mind if we hurry up, sir?" he asked with a sheepish grin. "My feet are freezing."

"Ah, of course, my boy," said Dumbledore, the smile back in his eyes. "Here." He flicked his wand, and Sirius was suddenly wearing a pair of purple boots that were quite possibly warmer and softer than anything he'd felt in his entire life. He found himself wondering if Dumbledore would let him keep them, offensive colouring be damned.

"Where to, sir?" he asked, wriggling his toes as he followed the headmaster out of the Hospital Wing. He transfigured his school tie into a sling for his arm as he walked, thinking that if he ever had a cast-iron excuse for not wearing one, this was probably it.

"My office, Mr Black," Dumbledore said, moving much faster than a mysterious old wizard had any right to. "We just have a small misunderstanding to clear up."

Sirius had to hurry to catch up. "A small misunderstanding, Professor?" he asked.

Dumbledore winked at him over his shoulder. "Quite a large misunderstanding, to be fair," he said with a smile, "but a misunderstanding nonetheless."

They came to a halt in front of the gargoyle statue. Sirius would swear later that it raised an eyebrow at him.

"_Aniseed Drops," _Dumbledore said. The gargoyle rolled its eyes - _really, _Sirius would tell Remus later,_ that's what happened_ - and scraped over to the side, leaving the path to the Headmaster's Office clear.

Sirius could already hear muted yelling coming from up the top of the staircase. He hurried up behind Dumbledore, who opened the door.

The yelling cut off abruptly.

Sirius looked around in shock. On one side of the room Peter, James and Remus were silent, sitting miserably in uncomfortably rigid wooden chairs. Remus had a nasty red scratch down the side of his throat, disappearing into a thick white bandage at the back of his neck. Standing on the other side was Severus Snape. His chair was tipped over haphazardly on the floor as if it had been thrown and his face was a dull, angry red. He'd obviously been the source of the yelling.

"Er, what's going on?" Sirius asked tentatively, holding his orange arm against his chest with caution.

"You tried to _kill me_," hissed Snape, "That's what's going on!"

Sirius blinked. He'd imagined all sorts of awful, impossible scenarios from the moment he'd seen Snape standing in the office - his parents had disowned him, or adopted Snape, or bonded the two of them together in some kind of forced marriage. But not _this. _"I'm sorry, what?_" _he said. What Snape had said didn't even make sense.

"You heard me," said Snape in a voice that shook with rage. "You tried to kill me. In cold blood._ You tried to murder me_."

"Well, I don't like you much, that's true, but I don't want you _dead,_" said Sirius, bewildered. He heard a strangled little snort from what he'd begun to think of as the Marauder's side of the room. "I mean, I'd never –"

"I heard you!" Snape interrupted. "You deliberately said where that – that _thing _would be –" at this, he stabbed a wild finger over at Remus, who looked like he was going to be sick, " – just when you knew I'd overhear it!"

Sirius sat down with a thud, in a chair he didn't think had been there the moment before. "I don't remember anything," he whispered tightly. "And I wouldn't – I'd never – "

"That monster should be expelled," Snape said, biting out each separate syllable in a sharp, crisp voice and ignoring the way Remus flinched at words. He turned to Dumbledore and appealed to him with a vicious light in his eyes. "And Black, expel him first and snap his wand. And Potter. _All of them."_

"Hey!" said James loudly, some of the colour coming back into his face. "I saved your life, you ungrateful git!"

Snape sneered, dismissing him. "The details are irrelevant," he said, "you were clearly in on it from the start and just chickened out – "

A chair scraped against the floor as James shot to his feet. He was outraged. "I saved your life! What part of that don't you get?"

_... Meanwhile, in the chair closest to the wall, Peter's heart was soaring. He wasn't going to be expelled after all – Remus wasn't going to hate him and no one was going to abandon him because_ no one knew what he had done._ Sirius didn't remember. Snape hadn't seen. It was all going to be okay..._

Sirius stared at Remus as if his whole world was crashing down around his ears. When he'd found out Remus' secret, he'd promised, he'd _sworn _never to let anyone else in on it. And now he'd ruined everything with one careless remark that he didn't even remember. That hurt the most - that he couldn't even remember the moment he'd completely betrayed his best friend.

And then Peter cleared his throat, snapping Sirius out of his daze and stunning Snape and James silent. Peter never interrupted when there was a fight on. It just didn't happen. Even Dumbledore looked faintly puzzled. "If it helps sir," Peter said earnestly, ignoring all the eyes on him with surprising skill, "Sirius honestly wasn't. I mean didn't. I mean –" he broke off, distressed. "We were in the library! He didn't even know Snape was there!"

"All the same," Dumbledore said gravely, "Loose lips sink ships."

"What does that even _mean,_" Remus muttered to Sirius, and Sirius almost choked because _Remus didn't hate him for screwing up_ and that felt almost as warm and fuzzy as the hideous purple boots he was probably going to wear for the rest of his life. Not that he'd admit it, of course.

"Muggle thing," he whispered back, almost delirious with relief. "And you're the one who's in charge of that kind of stuff, so you should know better than me." The rest of the meeting passed in a blur. Sirius vaguely noticed getting a week of detention and fifty points from Gryffindor for not being careful enough with his classmate's safety, but everything else was sort of hazy until he was back up in the dormitories.

The four of them were squished up in a circle on James' bed, a habit left over from First Year when they'd planned most of their pranks here. There wasn't as much room as there used to be - Peter could still stretch his legs out a bit, but Sirius practically had to sit on his own feet to keep from kicking someone in the knee-cap.

"We're getting too big for this," James said ruefully, rubbing out a cramp in his ankle. "Even you, Moony! Will wonders never cease?"

Remus responded by casually shoving James off the bed, and the other boy hit the ground with a startled yelp. "Sorry, Prongs," he said. "I guess you're just getting fat."

"What happened?" Sirius asked Peter, as the name calling on the bed beside them degenerated into hair pulling and a good-natured slap-fight. "Because I wasn't making that up – I honestly don't remember a bloody thing."

Peter shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't really remember either," he said. "I was a bit traumatized by you breaking your arm – "

"Aha!" said James, his neck bent painfully backwards as he tried to avoid Remus giving him a noogie. "I knew there was something... orange about you!"

"Pretty snazzy, right?" Sirius said, holding up his arm for inspection. Everyone else dutifully agreed that yes, it was indeed snazzy. Peter ruined the moment by reminding James that while Sirius and Remus had first period free on a Wednesday, _they s_till had to go to double Care of Magical Creatures, and there were only seven minutes until the bell was going to ring.

As James and Peter hurtled out of the room like rabbits on speed, Sirius frowned critically at his cast. He gave it a thoughtful tap with his wand, and tiny yellow lions started prowling around on the plaster. He looked up – he could _feel _Remus thinking too hard. "What?" he asked.

Remus shrugged. "I thought you'd tried to I don't know, make me into a murderer or something," he said bluntly, not bothering to sugar-coat the harsh words. He gave a short laugh and scratched at the bandage on the back of his neck. An edge was hanging loose, probably where James had tried to get him back for calling him a moronic lump of donkey-snot. "I thought you wanted to get me killed. I don't know." He glanced at up at Sirius and did a double take at the stricken expression on his face. "No, I know you didn't," he said hastily, "I know you never would! But just for a second after I woke up, you weren't there, and I thought... I don't know. It's stupid."

"You're too right it's stupid," Sirius said indignantly, startling a proper laugh out of Remus. "I'm never going to talk without checking around corners again for the rest of my life. I will take all your other secrets to the _grave."_ He pointed to an imaginary grave on the ground, in case he hadn't gotten the point across clearly enough.

"I didn't think I had any other secrets," Remus said with a puzzled grin.

Sirius shook his head pityingly. "Oh, so much to learn. Of course you will! Everyone has secrets," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. "_Everyone."_

Remus just threw a pillow at his arm, where the illusion lions tried to bite it to pieces and failed miserably. "All this talk of secrets makes me uncomfortable," he said primly. "I'm going to go hide my pain in the bathroom, away from your prying eyes." He tipped himself off the bed and scuttled away, banging the door shut behind him.

"Really?" Sirius yelled from the bed. He couldn't be bothered moving. _"Really?"_

"_No! You daft sod, I needed to take a piss!" _Remus' voice answered him, muffled by the door. "G_ive a man some privacy!"_

"You're just abandoning me!" Sirius replied, shouting so that his voice would carry through the thick wooden door. "Villainous treachery! Treacherous villainy!"

A smothered giggle echoed out of the bathroom back to him - not a laugh, a _giggle. _Sirius relaxed completely, untensing muscles he didn't even know he had. If there was one thing he knew about Remus, and he knew a _lot, _it was that he was physically incapable of laughing when he was properly angry. Everything really _was _ going to be okay.

But as he lay back on the bed, alone for the first time since Snape had called Remus a monster with such hate and disgust and _fear_, Sirius stopped pretending to be calm. An ugly expression slid over his face, and a niggling thought took hold in the back of his mind. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if Snape hadn't lived.

He would have deserved it.

...

_A/N: Okay. Hit me with it._


	8. Fifth Year Part 4

**24. In Which James Turns Out to be a Large Wet Flannel in Disguise.**

James had no idea how they'd made up. None. Whenever he tried to dance around the subject, Sirius would either cut him off with a barking laugh and a joke about rubber ducks, or Remus would give him a _look_. Remus turned out to be far more helpful, though, in the end. After the fifth time James tried to be subtle about it, Remus pulled him aside and told him two things: first, that James had about as much natural subtlety as an insane Fwooper and second, that since Sirius and Remus _hadn't actually fought_, there was nothing to make up about anyway.

"Honestly, James," he'd said. "Didn't you see the look on his face when he'd found out what happened? That's not the face of someone who'd planned to use one of his best friends as a murder weapon."

James had grudgingly agreed. He'd been there, and Sirius had actually looked like someone had kicked him very hard in the solar plexus. James knew how that looked too - on more than one occasion, he'd been the one doing the kicking - but he could tell that something didn't add up. Sirius wasn't naturally careless about the things that truly mattered.

Either way, the result of all this was a surprisingly normal New Years Eve, apart from the fact that Pete had been allowed to stay at Hogwarts with the rest of them this year and Sirius had smuggled in enough Firewhiskey through the Hogsmeade tunnel to sink a small boat. The four boys were sitting in a loose circle up in their dormitory. All the curtains were drawn to 'add to the atmosphere', as Sirius had said, and it was quite cosy. Well, it would have been cosy, had the Marauders not been far too manly to be thought of as _cosy._

"Is that F_irewhisky_?" Peter asked. He picked up a bottle from Sirius' Sack O'Booty (it was actually his book bag, but he hexed anyone who called it that) and held it gingerly, as if it would attack him at the slightest provocation.

James rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Pete," he said, fondly. "And you call yourself a fifth year." He took a bottle for himself and threw one each to Remus and Sirius. Remus caught his easily and examined it before setting it down on the floor in front of him. The labels had been charmed to read _"Mrs Higgins' E-Z Pop Fizzy Lemonade!"_, which he thought was quite a nice touch.

Sirius caught his bottle one handed and tossed it up in the air, snatching it back just before it hit the floor. "Let's drink to something!" he yelled.

Remus blinked. "Have you been sampling the merchandise, Padfoot?" he asked. "You're acting awfully... strange."

Sirius leered back at him, but didn't answer. "I'll sample _your _merchandise," he said instead, wiggling his eyebrows.

"What does that even mean?" Remus muttered to James. "I mean, it sounds really creepy, but I think that's all."

James nodded sagely. "That's pretty much all Padfoot is," he said. "All creepy promises but no _action."_

"And let's all thank Merlin for that," Peter said. He unscrewed his bottle carefully and sniffed at the top. "What are we drinking to, anyway?"

"Sturgis' hat." Sirius said decisively. He shook his bottle a bit for extra emphasis.

"Who, that Podmore kid in Ravenclaw?" Remus asked incredulously. "That's not a hat, that's a sin against nature." The hat in question, a brown monstrosity that was the approximate size and shape of a large pumpkin, was indeed so hideous that even Dumbledore was known to think it a bit over the top.

James flourished his bottle. "How about we drink to resolutions!" he said.

"Y'what?" Sirius asked intelligently, his face half buried in a pillow he'd stolen off Remus' bed.

"You know, New Years Resolutions," James replied, consciously capitalizing each word. "And you can get your horoscope to give you advice if you can't think of anything." He pulled out a battered copy of a book from under his bed called _Star Signs! Of the Century! _and flicked through it. "1976, 1976, where is it... ah, here we are!" He held it out proudly, its charmed pink cover sparkling half-heartedly.

Sirius dropped the pillow, a deeply horrified look on his face. "...Have you always been a gigantic wet flannel?" he asked earnestly. "How have I never noticed before?"

"Oh shut up," James said. "I borrowed this off Lily. She's really into this kind of thing, you know." He consulted the book. "I'm something called an... Aries, and Lily is an Aquarius. Very compatible," he said with a knowing nod.

"What about the rest of us?" Peter asked.

James answered without even looking at the book. "Sirius is a Gemini, you're a Cancer and Remus is a Pisces. I already checked," he added virtuously.

Remus rolled his eyes. "I don't even know why I bother being surprised anymore," he noted. "My friends are thieves."

"Borrowed!" James reminded him. "I said I _borrowed _it. That means I'll give it back in the end." He consulted the book, and then sniffed disdainfully. "And you're a Pisces anyway, I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Fine then," said Remus, never one to turn away from a challenge. "What advice does it give me?"

James cleared his throat importantly. "Pisces," he read, "Your lucky number is 29% of 3, and your lucky colour is..." He stopped, frowning at the page. "This can't be right," he said.

"No, keep going," said Remus lazily. "I'm sure this is going to be thoroughly enlightening."

"Your lucky colour is, er, the weird colour milk goes when it's a bit too old to drink." James looked up. "This book isn't quite what I expected, maybe we should just –"

"_Keep reading," _Remus said, a wicked glint in his eyes. "I'm starting to enjoy this."

"The three invisible moons of Neptune (Dehydratia, Calculata and Onomatopoeia) are inspiring creativity this month," James continued miserably. "Because of this, you should do all your Potions homework in as many bright, hard-to-read colours as you possibly can. Your teachers will _love _you for it. If you manage this, your membership to the Manic and Invisible Society For Instigating Troublesome Situations (MISFITS) will be paid in full for the next three months." James gave the book a betrayed glare. "This book can't be real. Lily must have cursed it or something."

"Oh, I _like _this!" Sirius said gleefully. "Do me next!"

"If you're sure," James said, still eyeing the book dubiously.

"Do me! Do me! Do me!" Sirius chanted. "Doooo meee!"

Remus grabbed the book off James. "I'll read it," he said, "just stop _saying _that!"

"Why?" Sirius asked innocently. "I just want someone to – "

"Gemini!" Remus said hastily. "Your lucky number is 8675-309, and your lucky colour is the exact shade of a three month old llama's left front hoof." He paused. "I think you're right, James. There is no way this book is naturally so –"

"Awesome?" Sirius said hopefully.

Remus smiled at him kindly, the way one would at a particularly stupid toddler. "That wasn't quite the word I was going to use, no," he said.

"I don't care. Keep reading!"

Remus gamely picked the book back up again. "If you're feeling particularly jealous of someone," he read, "go and drink something dangerously bright with an umbrella in it. Just remember that while a unicorn may seem all cool and sparkly, in the end she's just a painted donkey with a plunger stuck to her face. (Mars is just off doing his own thing, but he wanted me to tell you that. Specifically. Trust me on this.) The moral of this story is: duck does not count as a vegetable."

"Sound advice, sound advice," Sirius said, stroking his invisible moustache. "I'll have to bear that in mind."

"What about me?" Peter asked.

"Here, I'll just –" Sirius snatched the book from Remus and flicked to the appropriate page. He cleared his throat self-importantly. "Cancer. Your lucky number is four galleons, three sickles and half a knut. _I WON'T TELL YOU YOUR LUCKY COLOUR. YOU HAVE NO WAY OF KNOWING."_

"No, tell me! I want to know," Peter said indignantly.

Sirius just waved the book at him. "That wasn't me," he said, "That's actually what's written in the book." He found his place again and kept reading. "If you are knocked down and you get to the water under the bridge, you can climb a mountain by walking along the road less travelled, leaving no stone unturned and no man behind, so long as you remember that you can usually kill two birds because there are plenty of metaphors in the sea and that sometimes finding the perfect analogy is like balancing a muffin on a pencil. Since Mercury is shifting this month, you should probably tidy your room if you don't want to risk being turned into a squirrel."

Peter cast a mournful look around the dorm, which, belonging to four teenage boys, kind of looked like a bomb had dropped. Even Remus' space wasn't safe, Sirius having taken it upon himself to make it look 'normal'.

"Not much chance of that," Peter said. "Life of a squirrel, here I come."

"So, to resolutions!" James said, holding up his bottle.

"Yeah. To resolutions," Remus agreed fatalistically. "I can't think of a single way this could end well."

…

Four and a half hours later, the other three Marauders were well on their way to proving him right.

Remus himself was sitting on his bed, watching his three intoxicated friends in a vaguely horrified manner. Peter was lying on his back walking his legs up and down the wall for no apparent reason, James was locked staring contest with his trunk and Sirius was –

"MOOOOONY!"

"Argh. You frightened me, you terrifying monster," Remus said mildly, as Sirius crash tackled him from one bed to the next. He'd stopped getting scared about it after about the seventh time it had happened.

Sirius held out the last bottle to him in a slightly unsteady fist. "Drink some," he said, a manic gleam in his eye. "_I dare you_."

"No point," Remus said, with the patience of someone who'd repeated himself countless times in the last few hours. "Werewolf metabolism, remember?"

"Ha ha!" Sirius laughed. "You can't fool me with your sciencey lies!" He cast around for something to help him convince Remus. After a moment, he found one. "You are going to drink this _entire _bottle," he said slowly, "or so help me, I'll –"

"What?"

Sirius put a quieting finger to his lips and beckoned Remus closer. Against his better judgement, Remus leant in to listen.

"I'll tell James who borrowed his lucky sweater," Sirius murmured in his ear, "and who _lost it."_

Remus paled and glanced across at James who was sitting on the floor, lost in what seemed to be a gripping argument with his trunk. "I didn't lose it, he whispered back. "I just... accidentally transfigured it into a cat."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"And the cat ran away into the forbidden forest and probably got eaten by an Acromantula or something," Remus hissed. "Happy?"

"Very," said Sirius, smugly. "And I bet James would be too, if someone could put him out of his misery by telling him that while he may not have his sweater anymore, at least it's gone to a better place."

Remus' face fell. "You _wouldn't,"_ he said, dismayed.

Sirius just raised his eyebrows. "Oh, Jaa-ames!"

"No, shut up, I'm winning this," James snapped back. He turned back to his trunk and pointed an accusing finger at it, voice shaking with passion. "It's your fault for being a trunk. _I _wouldn't have lost my sweater. The poor thing, all alone in the cruel cruel world, without a kind word or loving hand to make her feel special."

"Is he still talking about a sweater," Peter asked interestedly from his position against the wall, "or is this another one of those innuendo things?"

"You stole my sweater!"James yelled at the trunk, ignoring Peter completely. "DO YOU DENY IT?"

"It can't, Prongs," Remus said gently. "It's just a trunk."

"Ah," said James, vaguely put out.

"Yeah," Sirius said. "It was actually – _mmph!" _His sentence was muffled as Remus covered his mouth with a hand.

"Just give me the bottle," he said, "And no one gets hurt."

Sirius handed it over mutely, surprised that Remus had given in so easily. Remus took it and slowly unscrewed it. He gave Sirius an exasperated look. "This is just a waste of good liquor, you know," he said. "I've heard that nothing short of Ghoul's Gargle will get a werewolf properly toasted."

"Well, this way we can at least say we tried," Sirius pointed out reasonably.

Remus sighed, before putting the bottle to his lips and taking several long swallows.

"My god, are you _chugging that?" _James asked after a long moment. "Steady on, old chap, we don't want you to drown."

"Yeah," said Peter, finally managing to get himself up the right way. "I thought you were a werewolf, not a werefish. Pisces doesn't mean you can breath underwater, you know."

Remus finished the last of the bottle with a smacking sound and dropped it back into Sirius' hand. "See?" he said. "Not a tingle."

"Well that's a waste," Sirius said disgustedly.

"_Hic."_

All eyes in the room turned to Remus, who had a scandalized look on his face.

"_Hic!" _Remus clapped both hands over his mouth and glared at Sirius accusingly.

"Oh, this is great!" James crowed. "Big bad wolf has the hiccups!"

"_Hic! _Oh, just shut up," Remus said scathingly. "_Hic!"_

"All I need right now is a Pensive," James mused. "This moment needs to be preserved for future generations to enjoy."

"_Hic!" _said Remus accusingly. "I hate you all."

With that, an enormous howling lump of fur hurled itself at his face.

"AAARGH!"

"Now_ that's_ the reaction I was going for," said Sirius happily, from where he was perched on top of Remus' chest.

"Can't – breathe!" Remus gasped.

"I got rid of your hiccups though, didn't I?"

"Yes you did," said James proudly. "Top man."

Remus stared at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. "Well I don't know about you lot," he said weakly, "but my New Year's resolution is to never listen to Padfoot again."

"Yeah," said Peter. "I'll drink to _that."_

_..._

_A/N: Thanks to the last Sasparilla for lending me the horoscopes – I only tweaked them a little to fit the fic. I felt they needed to be shared with the world. Review please, my pretties._


	9. Fifth Year Part 5

**25. I'd Strangle You if I Wasn't Busy Eating This Chocolate Frog.**

"I just don't get Muggle Easter," James said despairingly. "Where's the fun in a chocolate egg that isn't bigger on the inside?"

"What _I_ don't get," said Sirius, peering at the tiny egg, "is how the hell they manage to fit the rabbit inside without a good expansion charm." He gave the egg a surreptitious poke with his wand, but it failed to do anything even slightly interesting. He prodded it again. Still nothing. "Stupid Muggles," he muttered. "No fun at all."

Easter break was not turning out to be the fun-filled party extravaganza that Sirius had expected. Since that Evans girl had gone home to visit her parents, James was usually too busy pining to do anything other than stare broodingly at the dorm ceiling. Remus was studying for some subject that Sirius had never even heard of (he'd probably made it up, Sirius wouldn't put that past him), and Peter was –

"Like, are we talking midget rabbits? Are those even real?"

- busy being Peter. He'd accidentally eaten Remus' entire chocolate Easter stash too, and while _Remus _had let it go, Sirius wasn't quite so quick to forgive and forget.

Chocolate was a very serious matter.

Remus fixed his friends with an exasperated look over the top of a book. "The term is 'vertically challenged'", he said reprovingly. "We've been over this."

James tilted his head to one side and squinted at the egg. "I think maybe...if you rolled up the ears?"

"Hmm." Fitting disapproval, amusement and a polite request to be left alone into one syllable was difficult, but Remus always managed somehow.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be in the common room," Sirius said. "_'Technomancy'_, huh," he muttered to himself as he left. "Do I_ look_ like I was born yesterday?"

"It's the inbreeding, Pads," Peter called out helpfully, bounding down the stairs behind him. "You know, the stupidity is in your blood – hey, what are you—aaargh!" The surprised yelp faded off into the distance.

"Anyway," James said," Now we're alone, I've got something to give you."

"No, you don't have to do that, it's quite all right," Remus said, mildly horrified. "Just think of Lily and—"

"What?"

"Nothing," Remus said hastily. "Never mind. Seriously. Never. Okay, good talk, I'm just going to go and, um. Do some important things. Somewhere else." Jumping up from the bed, he gave James an awkward wave and practically bolted for the door.

"But I have chocolate for you!" James told his retreating back, confused. "Am I missing something here?"

Remus skidded to a halt. "Chocolate?" he asked. "Somehow, I don't think we were having the same conversation."

"It's not my fault everything I say comes out the wrong way," James said, as he started rooting around under his bed. "I just wanted to give this to you now so that Peter doesn't accidentally eat it like he did all your Easter chocolate." He wriggled further, reaching for something near the wall. "And I wanted to say thank you for that jumper you got me. I've been needing one for ages." He emerged from under his bed with a large wooden box. With a flourish, he opened the lid and handed it over.

Remus swayed a little where he was sitting. He could have sworn that a soft glow was radiating from the brightly coloured, delicious smelling contents of the box. "If you try to take this back, I might have to kill you," he said, quite seriously. He smoothed a reverent hand down one side of the box, a dazed little smile on his face.

James beamed. "I'll just… leave you two alone, shall I?"

Remus waved a careless hand in the direction of the stairwell, and James left quietly, actually taking the stairs one at a time.

"Prongs!" called Sirius from where he'd thrown himself down in front of the Common Room fire, "Get here now! We've only got three minutes to finish this game of Exploding Snap before it finishes itself for us." He hovered protectively over the pile of gently smoking playing cards. "You know, this is the last time I'm ever leaving a game overnight," he said. "A guy in seventh did it one time last year, and that classroom on the third floor _still _reeks of smoke."

"That was because you hexed his deck," Peter reminded him. "And can I play? You'll finish quicker with three people!"

"Sorry, Pete, this is the two player version," said James, setting himself down on the floor a safe distance from the heap of cards. "You can be referee if you want though – Sirius always cheats when there's no one watching."

Peter ignored Sirius' indignant snort and perched himself on the couch closest to the fire. "Mission accepted!"

"Just make sure you do a better job than that ginger guy who refs all the Puddlemere United games, though," James said quietly, flashing a quick grin in Sirius' direction. "He throws them everything, honestly-"

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" asked Sirius. He laid down his cards deliberately, ignoring the faint popping sound coming from the ones on the bottom of the stack.

"Well, come on," James continued happily, "Did you see that game last summer, against the Knights? Clearly fixed-"

"Maybe _you _need to get fixed –"

James gave the universal smile of the man who knows he's getting into a pointless argument and is loving every second of it. "Puddlemere is rubbish and everybody knows it."

Sirius reached over and gave James a patronizing clap on the shoulder. "Just because you're blind doesn't mean you have to be a moron about it," he said kindly. "Needing some help figuring out what's going on above the field is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Oh, _really,_" James said, laying his cards down too.

"I'm just going to go borrow a quill from Moony," Peter said loudly, edging towards the stairs. "Because I really have no idea who's winning this and I don't want to get in the way –"

The two boys arguing on the floor didn't even look up to see him make a mad dash for the dorms.

"And that last game was rubbish – the Harpies should have beaten them easily!"

Sirius gave his friend an incredulous look. "Says who?"

"Says me!" James retorted. "I just said it! You were sitting right there!"

"Oh, shut up," said Sirius, rolling his eyes. "You're just being ridiculous now."

"I will not be silenced!" James crowed triumphantly.

"Oh, here we go –"

"–You know nothing about Quidditch! I've said it before and I'll say it again, just because you think their seeker is fit –"

"JEREMY O'CONNOR IS A GOD AMONG MEN AND I WILL FIGHT ANYONE WHO DISAGREES." Sirius slapped his hand against the floor for emphasis, right on top of the abandoned cards. They obligingly exploded, obscuring the confused faces of the other students in the now-silent common room.

"And on that note, ladies and gentlemen," James said to his stunned housemates, "have a safe and happy evening!" He dragged Sirius to his feet, and made a quick escape to the relative safety of the stairwell.

"I think that went well, don't you?" Sirius said, futilely trying to brush the soot out of his eyebrows.

"Yeah," James replied. "And thanks for clearing Pete out – Moony loved the chocolates."

"Told you he would!" said Sirius with a little victory dance. "Where did you get them from, anyway? Honeyduke's is doing renovations for the next three weeks – "

"Nicked them off Pomfrey," James said promptly. "She has this enormous _crate _of them in the Hospital Wing – I honestly don't think she noticed that I, eh, liberated a few."

"_Shit._"

"What?"

Sirius took James by the arm and hauled him up the stairs. "That wasn't chocolate."

"What?"

Sirius threw the door open, and pushed James through.

"_What!"_

Remus was lying face down on the floor, surrounded by wrappers.

Peter held up the empty box and smiled nervously. "It wasn't me this time," he said, in a nervous voice. "I swear! He'd already eaten it all by the time I came up."

"Is he breathing?" James asked briskly, bending down to check his friend's pulse.

"Of course he is," said Sirius. "But what you _liberated _from the Hospital Wing was Pomfrey's disguised sleeping potion that she keeps for the difficult first years, and he's just eaten enough to make sure he stays asleep for the next week."

"Well, a week is good," James said, deep in thought. "A week is... perfect, actually. That gives me time to plan a really _sincere _apology. Moony likes those, I think."

Sirius looked up from where he was busy levitating Remus onto a bed. "You're kind of a git," he said accusingly. "You do know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I feel kind of bad though," James allowed. "That wasn't really a good enough thank you present after he got me a replacement for that jumper he ruined."

Sirius blinked in surprise. "You knew it was him?" he asked.

"Of course!" James said. "That was half the fun, watching him flinch every time I pleaded for someone to help me look for it." He shrugged. "I was going to tell him eventually, but then he bought me a replacement. So I let it drop."

Sirius just stared.

"Hey!" said James defensively. "I can be clever when I try to be!"

"Ha! Oh, that's a good one, Prongs," Peter laughed.

James frowned. "I don't think that's funny."

"Oh come on, it's a little funny."

"Ngh," Remus said, adding his scintillating insight to the conversation.

James narrows his eyes at Sirius. "A week," he said. "_Really_."

Sirius widened his eyes innocently. "Well, golly! It must be that werewolf metabolism, huh?"

"Don't say 'golly' when you're trying to get away with stuff," Remus said weakly, his voice muffled by the pillow his face was buried in. "It just makes you sound even creepier than you usually do."

"He's ALIIIIIVE!" James shouted.

Remus gave a pained groan and tried to cover his head with his hands. James clapped both hands over his mouth. "Sorry!" he whispered.

"Is this what being hungover feels like?" Remus asked, his face still buried in the pillow. "Like my head's too heavy and my eye sockets are too small?"

"Just like," said Peter happily. "Welcome to the family."

Remus tried to burrow his head deeper into his pillow. "Oh, just go away and let me die in peace," he mumbled. "I hate you all."

"We love you too, Moony," said Sirius.

"Hey, do you want me to go to the Hospital Wing and get you something for your head?" James asked.

"You have problems," Remus said into the pillow. "Serious, concerning problems. Why is everyone I know crazy?"

"Not _everyone_," Sirius replied. "Just this one." He gave James a friendly punch in the arm.

"Ow!"

Well, it was relatively friendly.

"Few sandwiches short of a picnic, is our friend Jimmy-"

"Don't call me that, _Siri."_

"—And I'm pretty sure he can't be brewing with all the required ingredients." Sirius continued, undaunted.

Remus snorted, still face down in the pillow and not looking to move any time soon.

"Exactly, Moony," Sirius said. "I think so too."

James looked up. "Wait, what?" He frowned. "You two shouldn't be allowed to do that talking without talking thing – I never know what you're saying!"

"And you shouldn't be allowed out of your straight-jacket, but there you go," said Sirius, grabbing James by the elbows and frog-marching him out the door. "Come on, Pete!" he called over his shoulder, "We're going on an expedition. You can come back up here when Remus has recovered from James' attempts at generosity."

"But where are you taking me?" asked James plaintively, trying to shake his wand out of his sleeve.

"I'm not actually sure," Sirius admitted, "but I'm sure it will be unpleasantly slimy enough to help you mend your wicked ways." He derailed James' flailing attempt to escape with a swift kick to the ankle, and smiled proudly to himself.

Never let it be said that Sirius Black wasn't a good friend.


	10. Sixth Year Part 1

**26. Flying Out of the Cuckoo's Nest**

It was summer. Remus was lying flat on his back in the middle of his garden, enjoying the dawn air, when Sirius Apparated out of nowhere and landed on his foot.

"Arg," Remus said accusingly. "Get off my foot."

Sirius obligingly rolled sideways and stopped, face down in a small hydrangea bush. "I hope these weren't special flowers," he said, spitting out blue petals, "because if they ever were, they certainly aren't any more."

"I'm happy to see you," Remus said carefully, "really, I am. But what are you doing here? It's too early for you to be breaking any laws." He turned to check for a response, but only saw the back of a dark head wiggle slightly as Sirius attempted to bury himself further into the shrubbery.

"I had to leave," he said, his voice muffled by leaves and flowers and possibly dirt. "I didn't have a choice."

Remus sat up, his mother's flowers forgotten. "Was it –?"

"My parents and I," Sirius said, "We had a disagreement. It was a bit more serious than the usual. More final." He pulled himself out of the garden and raked his hands through his hair, trying to dislodge what appeared to be a large portion of the Lupin family compost heap. "Anyway, have you been out here all night?" He leveled an inquiring look at Remus. "I know it's a novel concept, but I hear that sleeping in an actual bed is supposed to be pretty good for you."

"I know, I know," said Remus impatiently, unwilling to rehash an old argument at this time of morning, "but the stars are different here than the ones at Hogwarts. I always like to –" He broke off. "Oh, _nice try."_

"What?" asked Sirius, examining a suspicious leaf that he'd just pulled from his ear. "I'm fascinated, do continue."

"No, you're trying to distract me with Astronomy!"

"Nearly worked too," Sirius said, "But you figured out my evil plan, ahahaha." He began picking at the leaf, keeping his hands busy so that he wouldn't have to look Remus in the eye.

Remus sighed. "I'm worried about you, you daft sod."

"Don't be," said Sirius. "Accidental Apparation is rather bracing." He poked aimlessly at his hair again. "That was definitely something wriggly," he told Remus. "Did I land in the compost heap again?"

"Sorry," said Remus. "But look on the bright side – once more, and you'll have hit an even dozen. I hear you get the twelfth one free."

"Yeah. I guess."

"No you don't guess." Remus said briskly. "You never guess. Up, get up. James and I had a plan for this."

Sirius blinked, the remains of his leaf forgotten. "Y'what?"

"You're coming with me. Come on, _up."_ He pulled a bewildered Sirius to his feet when it became apparent that he wasn't going to do it by himself. "Got your trunk, or do you want to borrow some clothes of mine?"

"It's shrunk in my pocket, but it's only got the stuff from school." Sirius gave a full body shudder, as if he'd only just realised that he was freezing. "Could you lend me a cloak, maybe?"

"I've got a jacket I can lend you," Remus said. "Mad, you are, out at this time of night without one." He shrugged out of the one he was wearing and thrust it at Sirius.

"That's your good one!" Sirius protested, "I can't –"

"Just take it," said Remus peevishly, shoving Sirius' arms through the sleeves for him. "I don't even get cold, it's to keep up appearances."

Sirius straightened the jacket. "Thanks." He looked up to meet Remus' gaze and – "Oh holy Merlin, you're taller than me. Moony! What is this witchery?"

"What witchery?"

"This. No. Not happening. _Not possible,"_ Sirius said intelligently. "You had your growth spurt at Christmas, and another one at Easter. You shouldn't get another! Your height is lying!"

Remus shrugged and ducked his head a little, which only served to emphasize the gap between them. "Surprise?"

"Well, at least you don't look so much like a coat hanger now," Sirius said, slightly hysterical. He made an abortive movement with his shoulders to illustrate said coat hanger, but ended up looking like he was fighting invisible moths.

Remus raised his eyebrow in that supercilious manner that Sirius was absolutely not even a little bit jealous of, no sir. "I'll allow it because you're traumitized," he said.

"Ever so kind."

"But really! I never looked like a coat hanger."

"Well, no," Sirius said, "You were just twice as bony as anyone else I've ever met."

"No I wasn't!"

"You so were," Sirius repeated. "I think you had at least double the required amount of elbows."

"And on that wonderfully self-esteem boosting note, I'm going to use the Floo before we leave. Hold on a second." Remus planted a firm hand on Sirius' shoulder and _bent _down to look him in the eye, the bastard. "Stay." He practically bounded up the steps to his house. Within seconds, the familiar green glow of a Floo was visible through the curtains.

Sirius could just make out the conversation inside.

"_Agent Moony to Agent Prongs, Code Red. Repeat: we have a Code Red."_

"_Affirmative, Agent Moony. All units on standby. Well, this one anyway."_

"_What?"_

"_Oh, Pete's in Greece for the summer, I thought you knew."_

"_Copy that."_

"_Copy what?"_

"_What you just said, James! We'll be there soon, he fell in the compost again."_

"_Right, right. I mean, affirmative. Arrival in T-15 minutes?"_

_"Roger that."_

Sirius watched as the green light inside the house flickered and died. Remus reappeared at the door, one hand holding his wand and the other digging into the pocket of his pajama pants. "Let's go," he said. "We won't be taking the Knight Bus, I know you hate it."

"What?" asked Sirius. "How are we getting there? James lives all the way over in Godric's Hollow, that's _hours_ of walking, and my legs were not made for actual effort."

Remus just grinned. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and jingled a small Muggle key-chain at Sirius' face. "Relax, Pads," he said. "We're taking my car."

"You have a _car_?"

"Got my license when I was home for Christmas, just in case," Remus said calmly, as if he'd not just blown Sirius' mind into tiny, tiny pieces. "It's parked out on the street." He swung open the gate in the garden fence and started down the driveway. "Coming?"

Sirius just stood there for a second, completely poleaxed. "I get to drive in a Muggle car," he whispered to himself. "Oh, they'd _hate _this." He followed Remus out onto the road with a smile on his face.

Once he actually got in the car, it was a different story. Remus' car (and to be brutally frank, calling this sad piece of machinery a car was a bit like saying that the Shrieking Shack was the epitome of high-class living style) was a small four-seater affair, so rusted that Sirius couldn't really tell what colour it was supposed to be. One of the windows was missing, and the gap had been carefully taped over with a cardboard screen. Remus gave it a loving pat on the windshield_. BUCKET,_ the number plate read, in wobbly letters. "Isn't she beautiful?" he asked.

"Oh yes," Sirius said, unconvinced. "The beautiful…-est."

When Remus first tried to start it, there was a coughing noise from under the bonnet. "She does this sometimes," he said, "hang on." He gave the dashboard a hard thump, and a knob fell off the steering column. Remus pocketed it, darting a quick look over at Sirius to gauge his reaction. "That's just for the wipers, it comes off all the time," he said hastily, as the car's engine sputtered to life. "We don't really need that." He checked the mirrors and pulled away from the curb with an unsteady lurch.

Sirius watched in horror as the view out the window started to whip by faster and faster. Remus threw the car around a sharp corner with a screech of tires, barely even slowing down. "I've changed my mind," Sirius said, clinging to his seatbelt. "We can totally walk, it's not that fa_aaaaaaar!"_

Remus shifted into fourth with a crunch. "She's pretty old, but the clutch works fine if you wiggle it a bit," he said, raising his voice over the engine.

"I'm going to die," said Sirius faintly. "There is death in my immediate future."

Remus grinned. "But we're not even going _fast _yet!"

"I have so much respect for Muggles," Sirius said. "So much." He watched as the headlights of the cars on the other side of the road flashed past in a dizzying blur of colour. "Do they all do… this?"

"Most Muggles can drive, yeah," said Remus. He shifted down through third gear to second, slowing as he turned off the motorway and onto a side street. "It's kind of complicated though. Takes about a year before they let you out in a car on your own."

"I'm learning," Sirius decided. "Will you teach me?"

"Oh god, you on the roads?" Remus shuddered. "Heaven help us all." He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the steering wheel. "Of course I will," he said abruptly. "This summer, next summer. Chistmas." He slanted a smile at his friend. "Anytime. I'm here if you need me."

Sirius knew he wasn't just talking about the driving lessons.

They drove on in comfortable silence for another twenty minutes before Remus pulled over and parked the in front of the gates to the Potter mansion.

"All set," Remus said. The engine ticked and groaned as it began to cool down. "You ready?"

"Yeah, just give us a second." Sirius fiddled with the odd Muggle "seat-belt" mechanism for a good fifteen seconds, before giving Remus the famous puppy dog eyes.

"You're ridiculous," Remus told him, as he reached across to undo the buckle with an easy click. "You do know that, don't you?"

Sirius caught Remus' wrist as he was pulling away and gave it an awkward squeeze. "I wanted to – thanks," he said, in explanation. "You guys really did plan this, didn't you?"

"Of course we did," Remus said, unbuckling his own belt and leaning back against the head-rest. "Because –" He broke off with a frustrated sigh. "Because we saw how you got whenever a letter came from home," he said, staring out through the windshield, "and we saw how you were every time you had to _go_ home. And it just kept getting worse, you know?" Remus rolled his eyes at himself. "Of course you know, it's your life, what am I saying. But James and I – and Peter too, in the end – we could tell it was probably going to end up like this."

Sirius coughed. "Wow, even Peter noticed. It must have been really bad, then."

"We were all, er, worried. About you," Remus told the steering wheel, his ears an uncomfortable shade of pink.

"Yeah, well. It was only a matter of time before I left for good."

"Yes."

"Right."

They got out of the car in mutually-embarrassed silence. A cricket chirped from where it had settled on the cooling bonnet of the car, and Remus startled badly. "Oh god," he said, "we're having an awkward cricket-chirp moment."

"A what?" Sirius asked.

"Muggle thing, not important," Remus said, flapping a dismissive hand. "Anyway, I meant to ask – are you feeling okay now? Angry, sad?" He reached into the volumious pocket of his pajama trousers and pulled out three rather chipped tea saucers. "Because if you feel the urge to break something, I have just the thing." He wiggled one enticingly in Sirius' direction. "I usually have more – there's a permanent Expansion Charm mixed with a Cushioning charm on these pockets," he said. "But I've been having some trouble sleeping lately, so I may need to replace my stock." He fished around in his other pocket, bringing out another half of a saucer, two cracked cups and the lid of a teapot.

Sirius looked on in fascinated disbelief as Remus hefted one of the cups in his left hand. He hurled it at a nearby tree, where it shattered against the trunk with a satisfying crunch.

"Do you want a go?" Remus asked, offering one of the saucers.

"How are you even _real?"_ Sirius asked, in lieu of an actual answer. He walked over to examine the tree. A dangerously sharp shard of china was wedged in the bark at chest height.

"It's suprisingly theraputic." Remus called out.

"Thanks, but I'm actually... fine," Sirius said with a wondering tone. "I'm free. They can't threaten to kick me out to try and keep me in line, because I'm _already gone!" _Sirius did a joyful little shimmy around the tree. "Haha!" He grabbed the remaining cup from where Remus had placed it on the roof of the car and smashed it against the ground, stomping on the remains. "I _win!"_

"_Mazel tov," _Remus said. "Now, let's get you inside." He pocketed the remaining crockery with a muffled clinking sound and knocked on the wrought-iron gates. "James!" he yelled. "Open up you prick, we're getting emotional out here!"

There was a crack, and James appeared in front of them, about half a foot off the ground. "Shit, sorry" he said, stumbling to regain his footing. "Just trying to make an appropriately impressive entrance."

"Yeah, and maybe that will work a bit better when you learn how to Apparate properly," Remus said. "Not that it isn't good to see you, but let's get in, shall we?"

"Right, right. Pads, Moony, this way."

"We know, you daft git." Sirius pointed helpfully to the sign that said "_Potter Manor_" in three foot high brass letters. "It's a bit hard to miss."

"Right you are," James said, swinging the gate open. He held it open too. "After you two," he said, motioning considerately with his hand. In fact, James was sensitive and kind and totally unlike himself until they reached the house, where Sirius poked him in the side.

"Ow," James said reproachfully. "That was my kidney."

"I was just checking to see if you're you," Sirius said, giving him another poke for good measure. "I had a dream once where you got replaced by a Death Eater under Polyjuice, and that shit was terrifying."

"You have problems," said Remus. "Serious problems, and if you make a pun out of that I will not be held responsible for my actions."

"I was just trying to be nice!" James said. He opened the door, and the three boys moved into the house.

Sirius shook his head. "Well, don't."

"It is a bit creepy, mate." Remus murmured in an undertone.

James ignored them both. "Mum," he hollered up the stairs, "they're here!"

"Oh, wonderful!" exclaimed a voice from behind him.

James gave a rather strangled yelp. "I thought you were upstairs!"

Mrs. Potter smiled, pushing a grey curl behind her ear. "Oh no, I've been up since the Floo went off," she said. "Your father was too lazy to get out of bed, but he's quite pleased you have all finally arrived." She curtsied to Remus, her floral night robe only affecting the elegance of the gesture slightly.

"Mrs. Potter, thank you for inviting us into your home on such short notice," Remus said. He bowed over her hand, mirroring her formality.

"And Sirius," she continued, turning to the other boy and sweeping him up in a tight hug, "It is lovely to see you again." She let him go, beaming as he tried to cover up a furious blush.

"Always a pleasure, Mrs. P," he mumbled.

James, his mother and Remus shared a look over Sirius' ducked head.

"Anyway," James said, "Next time you want to come over, you don't have to get Remus to drive you here."

"Really?" Sirius asked dubiously. "Only, these boots were definitely not made for walking, and the Knight Bus smells like vomit and desperation." He gave James a puzzled look. "I could fly, I guess," he said, "But I don't know if my Disillusionment Charm is quite good enough yet."

Mrs. Potter smiled again. "That's not quite what we meant," she said softly. "You see, we've keyed you into the Apparition wards."

Sirius blinked. "But that's just for –"

"– Family," James finished, with a lop-sided grin. "Welcome home. Brother."


	11. Sixth Year Part 2

**27. The Dangers of Loneliness and Date Scones**

"Psst! Moony, get up!" Sirius hissed.

"What?" Remus said into his pillow. "Why?" It was a lazy Saturday morning, and he'd planned to nap quietly until at least three in the afternoon. That was looking more and more unlikely as the minutes passed. He cracked an eye open and peered across to where Sirius was standing at the foot of his bed, nearly vibrating with what Remus privately called the Weekend Jitters.

"Adventuring time!" Sirius said happily. "Put your shoes on, I had a brilliant dream about pirates, and I thought we could go exploring for-"

"-Pirate treasure." Remus finished for him. "Of course, yes. I thought that might be it."

Sirius frowned at him, surprised. "How did you know?"

"Because I am your omniscient leader," said Remus, still face down in his pillow. "Fear me."

Sirius' frown deepened.

Remus could almost hear the cogs turning as he thought this over. "You talk in your sleep, plonker," he said with a sleepy grin. "It's not like I'm a Legilimens or some shit." He sat up in bed and scrubbed a hand through his rumpled hair. "Now, what was this I was hearing about an adventure?"

"You and me, exploring the wilds of Hogwarts," Sirius said, spreading his hands dramatically. "Just like the old days."

"Just like last week, you mean?" Remus asked. He sat up. "Wait," he said, rubbing at his eyes, "you aren't still trying to get me to come and poke around in the dungeons, are you?"

Sirius nodded eagerly. "Danger, adventure, horrors the like of which man has never seen –"

"Just let me get some proper clothes on, you clot," Remus said fondly. "Honestly. The things I do for you."

"Excellent!" said Sirius. "I have a map and everything, you know."

Remus rolled his eyes. "It doesn't count if you make the map yourself, Sirius," he said, rummaging around in his trunk for a clean jumper.

"Who says?" asked Sirius indignantly.

"Everyone says!"

Sirius thrust the map in Remus' face. "But look," he said, "the map says _treasure _on it!" Sure enough, in the very center of the map was a tiny scroll that proclaimed the existence of 'TREASUREEEE!' A small animated figure was hopping up and down beside the sign, pointing excitedly toward it.

"Is that a pirate?" Remus asked. He squinted at the drawing. The drawing squinted back.

"Yes! That means it's _pirate treasure._"

"Of course," said Remus drily. "That was perfectly obvious."

"It was, wasn't it?" Sirius agreed. "Now hurry up, come on. You don't need _another _sweater, its not that cold."

"It's called being prepared!"

"It's called being ridiculous," said Sirius, with the patience of a man repeating a familiar argument. "If you're looking for the green one, you left it in the Common Room last night anyway."

Remus frowned. "How do you know?"

"Because you're not wearing it and I'm not wearing it and it's still not here." Sirius tossed his head proudly. "Elimination, my dear Watson."

"No, it's '_Elementary, my dear Watson.'"_

"But I thought you were being Watson," said Sirius.

"No, I'm Remus," said Remus. "Nice to meet you."

"Yes, I know you're Remus! Now can we_ go."_

"Yes, yes," said Remus, starting down the dormitory stairs with Sirius close behind him, "I'm going, I'm going!"

The Common Room was empty when they reached the bottom of the stairs, save for Remus' jumper, which was attached to – "The _ceiling, _Pads? Really? You've got to be kidding me."

Sirius shrugged, unrepentant. "Well, I was holding it hostage in case you wanted to stay in bed instead of joining me in super fun adventure time." He detached the jumper with a flick of his wand, and it fell to the floor with a surprisingly solid thump. "You always tell me to have a Plan B, Moony!" he said. "I was just taking your advice."

Remus snatched the jumper up from the floor, shook it out and pulled it on over his head. "When I ask you to listen to me for once," he muttered from the depths of the fabric, "this is so not what I meant, it isn't even funny."

"_I _thought it was funny," Sirius said. "I was going to write you a little ransom note and everything, but then I got distracted."

"With what?"

"Treasure!" Sirius exclaimed, waving his arms around helpfully.

"Of course you did," said Remus, heading for the door. He paused halfway and turned around. "Well, are you coming or not?"

"Of course I am!"

"Then lead the way, captain."

Sirius consulted the map briefly, before shouting, "ONWARDS!" and charging down the corridor with Remus hot on his heels. He skidded round a corner and nearly collided with a statue.

"Slow down when you get to the stairs," Remus yelled at the back of Sirius' rapidly disappearing head. "I refuse to take you to the Hospital wing with yet another broken arm!"

"Right you are, Moony," said Sirius, obligingly slowing to a walk at the top of the stairs. "A broken arm can't carry treasure, after all."

"You're a man obsessed," Remus said as they descended the staircase.

"I wouldn't say _obsessed_," Sirius hedged. "Just… differently focused."

"That's a new one."

The two friends walked on in amiable silence for a moment, before coming to a fork in the darkened corridor. Remus started off down the right path, as it seemed to lead deeper down into the dungeons.

"Hey, not that way!" Sirius said, pulling Remus back by the collar. "The Slytherin Common Room is that way, and I'm not in the mood for that kind of adventure today."

"The Slytherin Common Room?" Remus asked, absentmindedly detaching Sirius' fingers from the collar of his shirt, "How did you find that out?"

Sirius went a bit pink. "The Marauders' Map," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Reg is always hanging around here with all his little Slytherin friends. Not like I was checking up on him or anything," he said hastily, "I just… noticed his name a couple of times."

"Of course," said Remus, "that's perfectly reasonable." He turned down the other fork in the corridor decisively. "You know what," he called back over his shoulder, "This way looks far better. I say we go this way."

"Right you are," said Sirius. "Treasure awaits!"

* * *

"Okay," said James, "we have our first match against Slytherin in November, and if we don't win then I may have to kill myself in shame." He scribbled notes feverishly on a piece of parchment as he spoke. A scale model of a Quidditch pitch sat on the table by his side, tiny figures moving through loops and turns of automated drills. James poked them with his wand. "Death is in my immediate future," he said unhappily. "I don't like where this is going."

Peter frowned up at him from the depths of the Common Room's squashiest armchair. "Death?" he asked. "Isn't that a bit over the top?"

"Ah, young grasshopper, nothing is too over the top when it comes to Quidditch," James said loftily. He lowered his voice. "_Nothing."_

"I… well, no, I actually don't see at all," Peter said.

"Will daily practices be enough?" James asked the room at large. As the room at large consisted of only himself and Peter, he didn't get a response. He continued, undaunted. "Maybe I can talk them into lunchtime drills," he mused. "After all, it's not likely they've forgotten what a shit-show we had last year." He shook his head. "Against Hufflepuff, no less," he added mournfully. "That nearly made it _worse."_

Peter craned his head up from his armchair. "Wait, wait, hold on," he asked, "Are you talking about the game when – "

"We do not speak of that game," James hissed.

"Right, I knew that."

"Of course you did Pete, there's a good lad," James said, returning to his plans. "Do you think you could give me a hand with this one?"

"Sure," said Peter happily. He pulled up a chair at the table and watched as James drew the outline of a Quidditch pitch on a fresh piece of parchment.

"Thanks," James said. "It's just, I had this new idea about the Beaters and I just wanted to get it down on paper to see if it looks okay, you know?"

Peter nodded warily as James filled in the fourteen players, seven in green and seven in red. "I know," he said. "That makes sense, yeah."

"Yeah," James said enthusiastically, "I mean, Gryffindor's been under-utilizing their Beaters for years and years, and we've just got this new kid in, third year, Rutter, he's fantastic with a left swing." He drew a big R on the back of one of the red players, before giving it a quick poke with his wand. The figure obligingly started to swoop around the pitch. "Anyway," James continued, "Slytherin has exactly the same line up as they did last year, which is going to work for us because you know and I know they have that Chaser who startles every time a Bludger gets within a foot of him, and we can _use that_." He paused and looked up at Peter.

"Whu?" Peter said intelligently. "I mean, yes, of course we know that. Use that. Know how to use that."

"Exactly. And so if we just have Rutter tailing him constantly for the first thirty, it'll put him far enough off his game to throw out the whole Slytherin Chaser line and we can beat them that way." James paused again. "Of course, we could always just ride in on flaming great dragons instead of brooms and have them eat Slytherin's git of a Keeper, that would work." He looked at Peter expectantly.

"Sorry, what?" said Peter. "Oh definitely, that would work really well."

James grinned. "You're not getting any of this, are you?" he asked, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"No, sorry," Peter said ruefully. "I was trying, I was, but Quidditch just sends me out worse than History of Magic."

"Well, you don't have to stay and get bored by me," James said, clapping Peter on the shoulder with an ink-stained hand. "Go down to lunch if you'd rather and I'll see you in a minute." He gestured to the loose paper scattered across the table. "I can hold down the fort by myself for a bit."

"I might just do that," said Peter. He tapped a finger against the table to get James' attention, which was already straying back to his Quidditch notes. "Hey, you don't know where Moony and Padfoot are, do you?" he asked.

"Off doing Merlin knows what," James said. "They're probably in the dungeons again."

Peter nodded thoughtfully. "I thought I heard them leave this morning," he said. "Maybe they'll be down at lunch already."

"Maybe," James agreed. "I'll join you soon, yeah? I've just got to finish this."

"See you then," said Peter. As James turned back to his notes, Peter left the Common Room with thoughts of food already occupying his mind. Maybe they had date scones. He liked date scones.

* * *

Going off to explore the dungeons with Sirius for lost pirate gold was one thing, Remus thought. Having to stop Sirius from flooding the lower dungeons with runoff water from the Great Lake so that they could be_ real_ pirates was entirely another.

"But Moony!" Sirius said pleadingly, "You're crushing all my dreams! My ambitions!"

"My God," said Remus, "What is it with you and your preoccupation with seafaring criminals?"

"Boats, Moony," Sirius said, his eyes shining in the dim light of the dungeon corridor. "Big boats and bigger hats and lost treasure and courageous battles and valiant deeds and, and, and –"

"And what?" Remus asked, as Sirius' excitement became too much for him to string together a coherent sentence.

"And sea monsters," Sirius breathed reverently.

There was a pause.

"Well, we've got a giant squid in the lake," Remus said dubiously. "Does that count?"

"Oh shut up, Professor Lupin," Sirius said, "you just don't understand."

"I understand that you're a lunatic just fine," Remus said, knocking shoulders with Sirius.

"Hey, not on," Sirius said indignantly. He pushed Remus back. Remus tripped on an uneven flagstone, fell into the wall and then just kept falling. "Whoops," said Sirius. "Shit."

"I'm fine," said a disembodied voice from the other side of the wall.

Sirius sagged with relief. "Oh good," he said.

"_You_ won't be though," the voice continued. "Get in here, you git." Remus's hand shot out of a wall that Sirius would have sworn was totally solid right up until thirty seconds ago, grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him in.

Sirius barely had time to close his eyes before he stumbled through the wall-illusion and collapsed at the foot of a narrow staircase.

"Where are we?" Remus asked.

"On a staircase, I think," Sirius said, his eyes shining sincerely in the dim light.

"Your insight knows no bounds," Remus said drily, "Truly, I am astonished."

"Oh shut up."

Remus shut. He craned his neck up, trying to see past the curve of the stairs. "I wonder where this goes," he mused.

Sirius elbowed him in the side. "Only one way to find out," he said. "Race you to the top?"

"You're on."

"Ready?"

"Last one up's a fat gnome," Remus said, quite conversationally, before leaping up what seemed to be an entire flight of stairs.

"Oi, not fair!" howled Sirius, climbing after as fast as he could go. "Head starts are for cheaters!"

"Whatever you say, Chubby McFudge," Remus' voice echoed down from above. "Catch me if you can!"

Sirius climbed frantically for what seemed like an age. Just as his neck began to cramp from straining upwards for so long, he caught sight of Remus, who was almost at the top. "_Accio Remus' shoe!" _he cried in desperation. The spell worked, but too well. Remus' shoe, not attached to Remus' foot, came soaring down from above and hit him squarely in the face. "Ow," he exclaimed. "_Ow."_

"Oh god, that was brilliant," said Remus, perched at the top of the stairs with not a hair out of place. "The look on your _face_, it was just –" He made a ridiculously stupefied expression, his eyes bulging and mouth flopped wide open like a fish.

"Do shut up," said Sirius peevishly. "I may have not entirely thought that through."

"Do you ever?"

"Sometimes!"

Remus folded his arms and gave Sirius an incredulous look. "Name once," he said. "Once."

Sirius grimaced. "Well…"

"My point exactly," said Remus. "Thank you."

"Hey, I was thinking!" Sirius said.

"We've already established that's something you don't really do," said Remus. "Now are we going though this door or not?"

"Of course we are," Sirius said, getting to his feet and climbing the last remaining stairs. He picked up Remus' shoe from where it lay abandoned on the ground and presented it to Remus like a trophy. "After you, Mr. Moony," he said, gallantly.

Remus bowed over the shoe, before taking it and wedging it back onto his foot. "If you insist, Mr. Padfoot," he replied. He pushed open the door and stepped out.

Sirius followed and looked around eagerly. "Huh," he said, unimpressed. They'd ended up directly opposite the portrait of the Fat Lady. "That was kind of an anticlimax."

"No more being late for potions, I guess…" said Remus. "That's a bonus, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Sirius. "I am delirious with joy." He looked up and down the corridor again, in the vain hope that it would have changed into something a bit more interesting while he wasn't paying attention.

"You know," said Remus thoughtfully, "it's not quite time for lunch yet."

"No it's not," Sirius said. "That's true. Where are you going with this?"

"And we never did find that lost pirate treasure."

"And?"

"And, Mr. Padfoot, last one down these stairs is _married _to a fat gnome."

Remus bolted for the door, Sirius right on his heels.

* * *

Peter was feeling a bit left out. He didn't want to sound pathetic, but it did seem a bit as if his three best friends had forgotten all about him. They hadn't told him that Sirius had absconded to the Potters' house in the middle of the holidays – he only found out on the train with the rest of the school. (Not that he was complaining, really, but a letter would have been nice.)

He was sitting alone at the Gryffindor benches in the Great Hall. As it was a Saturday, he and a boy sitting at the Ravenclaw table were the only two people in the hall at all. Everyone else was busy sorting things out for the first week of classes or catching up with their friends. Peter had been planning to do exactly that after he'd eaten, but Remus and Sirius had disappeared off Merlin knows where, while James was busy sorting out Quidditch rosters or something equally dull. To be honest, Peter hadn't really listened to the explanation - he tended to zone out whenever James got the manic Quidditch gleam in his eye. Anyway, while it was always Remus-and-Sirius, or James-and-Sirius or Remus-and-Sarcasm, it was never really Peter-and-James.

The Ravenclaw waved from the other table. Peter couldn't really see who it was, but he waved back half-heartedly anyway. The other boy waved again, more emphatically, and beckoned Peter over to sit with him. Not having anything better to do, Peter went. As he drew closer, he recognized the other boy as one of the Seventh Years. Baxter, or Yaxter or something. Yaxley? Yaxley, that was it.

"Hey," Yaxley said with a smile, patting the bench next to him. "It's Pettigrew, right?"

"Right," said Peter warily. "Um, not to be rude, but how do you know my name?"

The other boy laughed. "Oh, you're one of the Marauders, aren't you? Everyone knows who you are."

"Well," Peter said, flushing a bit, "we call ourselves that, but it's all a bit of fun—"

"I'll bet it is," said Yaxley. "Hey, you want a date scone? There's a whole plate of them here."

"Thanks," said Peter, doubts forgotten. "Those are my favourite!"

"I know," said Yaxley with a smile. "Take two."

Peter took two.


End file.
